


Oh God, not HIM again!

by khaleesivero



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, Fuckbuddies, Fuckbuddies To Lovers, M/M, Newt is an arrogant bastard, Newtmas is the main pairing, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Sass, Sassy Minho is life, Sex on a piano, Smut, affair, dorky Thomas, except not really, he's kinda hot though, in case that wasn't clear, newtmas - Freeform, sexy Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4856675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khaleesivero/pseuds/khaleesivero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffeeshop AU in which Thomas is a sexually frustrated barista who is annoyed by a certain blond customer who is, despite all his bad manners, quite a looker, and Minho tries to set his best friend up. Newtmas sass, smut, angst and eventual romance. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...He's Kinda Hot, Though

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raini/gifts).



"Thanks so much. Enjoy your coffee and have a great day!" Thomas handed the petite blond girl her coffee and her change and smiled at her. She smiled back at him happily before she left the shop, and once again, the boy felt happy about his job; providing this girl with a warm drink between classes on a stormy autumn day seemed like a good thing to get paid for. Eventually he turned back to his colleague. "So, what was that story about Gally's catastrophic date?"

"Right." Minho, the best co-worker and also the best friend Thomas could ever imagine, was leaning against the counter, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "So you remember when we went out the other day..."

While Minho broke into a self-titled hilarious story about their friend's latest dating escapade, Thomas let his gaze wander through the coffee shop. It was Monday morning, well past nine, and the busy time of their shift was over, so now they had time to chat and have a coffee themselves. Gally always said that he'd never work on a Monday morning, but Thomas didn't mind; he'd rather hand people their first warm beverage of the day than be on the way to work or school himself. Not that he didn't like school - he loved it, to be quite frank, and he'd always wanted to go to med school (being able to help people in pain would be so awesome!) - but he preferred his lectures to take place well after eight in the morning.

"...so she had an allergic reaction and they had to take her to the hospital!" Minho laughed at the mental image of Gally's date ending in an ambulance, and even though Thomas didn't want to find it funny, he actually couldn't repress a tiny smile. That didn't keep him from scolding his friend, though.

"Min, it's not nice to laugh at that, we should rather be glad that it didn't end badly!" he protested, shaking his head at his friend. Minho raised his eyebrows. "Oh come on, it's funny. Admit it. She told him she was allergic to nuts and he got the wrong M&Ms? That's hilarious!"

Thomas bit his lower lip, his inner doctor fighting with the silly twenty-year old boy he was, before shrugging. "Alright, it is pretty funny that he'd forget that." He allowed himself a grin that the raven-haired boy answered with an almost majestic nod. "See. Told you so."

Thomas shook his head, his messy brown hair slightly wiggling with the motion, and turned to wipe the counter and also to hide his grin from Minho. Gally would be a brilliant surgeon if he continued his school career like that, but his social skills still needed a lot of work - as did his listening skills, apparently.

The brunet enjoyed mornings like that. Minho and he were now the only two baristas in the coffee shop; they would both leave at 10:30 to get to their lecture, which would start at 11:00, on time, and their two colleagues would come over at 10 so there was plenty of time for all of them to have a smooth switch. Right now, the coffee shop was empty, the soft acoustic music coming from the speakers reminded Thomas of summer and he could almost forget the fifteen-minute walk through the cold October rain he would have to take in an hour or so while being surrounded by the colourful and odd mixture of old furniture their independent coffee shop was famous for. Right now, he'd just make himself a cappuccino and enjoy talking to his best friend.

"So Thomas, when was the last time you had a date?"

Or not enjoy talking to his best friend.

Thomas almost burned himself on hot water and made a show out of cursing and washing his hands with cold water, going on about how the "stupid coffee machine" had "done it again". He hadn't burned himself, of course, he was a trained and experienced barista, but maybe his charade would help changing the topic. The brunet had no intention in speaking about his love life; not about the catastrophic end of his last relationship with their colleague Teresa (who had cheated on him with their other colleague Aris and who Thomas had found screwing in med school library's very own copy room), certainly not about his fling with one of their male colleagues (so yeah, maybe Jeff hadn't been a good idea, but who could have known that he would be so possessive?) and especially not about the fact that he hadn't had a date in months (because the only people he ever had contact with were his fellow students and he didn't want to have to avoid any more of them - or his customers, and flirting with those was just plain weird). So yeah - Thomas would rather pretend to burn his hand with boiling water than actually talk about his love life. Go figure.

Minho just looked at him in a pitiful way, patiently waiting for his best friend to stop pretending he hadn't heard the question. The brunet wiped his hands off on his apron. "You want the usual? Or you wanna try some of our new winter-themed drinks?"

The raven-haired boy just rolled his eyes. "Thomas, if you think that I don't realise that you're trying to distract me, you are overly confident in your terrible acting skills. Just answer my question. And yeah, the usual, thanks."

The other boy was busying himself making coffee. "And what question was that?" he asked innocently, playing for time, even though he knew it wouldn't help him a damn thing.

Minho threw up his hands in exasperation. "For shuck's sake, Thomas, just answer my freakin' question! When was the last time you screwed someone?"

Turning around and leaning against the counter, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, the brunet raised his eyebrows at the Asian boy while handing him a second cup. "I didn't realise 'dating' is a synonym for 'screwing', Minho."

"So you DID hear my question! - Thanks", he added, accepting the coffee.

Thomas sighed. "Of course I did. It's just not something I like to be reminded of." For obvious reasons.

Minho looked at him, pity again obvious in his gaze. "I know, man, it's just that I've found this great girl -"

"No."

"Ok, so this great guy-"

"Absolutely not."

Minho once again threw his hands up, thankfully only after putting his coffee cup down. "What do you want, then? It's not like there's another alternative!"

Thomas smirked. "Didn't you pay attention in our Gender Studies lecture, Minho?"

At that the other boy just rolled his eyes. "Come on, dude, I am trying to help you out. It's not like you're an ugly shank, I've heard girls talk about your... Soulful brown eyes and athletic build or whatever -" Minho rolled his eyes again. "It's just that I've got Brenda now, and I want you to be happy, too. Let's go out, arrange a double date, whatever. It will be fun."

It was true, Minho had a girlfriend now, and Thomas was happy to see them together, especially because she was such a great girl and a good friend of his, too, and it was fun to hang out with them. He never would have thought they were planning on setting him up, because he had never felt like the third wheel, but...

"Am I annoying you?"

Clearly caught off guard, Minho looked confused. "What?"

"Brenda and you." Thomas cleared his throat. "Does it bother you to do stuff just as the three of us?"

The Asian guy shook his head. "No, of course not, Thomas, this is not about us, it's about you."

"Alright." Thomas nodded. "I appreciate your help, but I don't want a date right now. Okay?"

"Sure, whatever you want", Minho agreed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Just know that whenever you need a date, I can set you up in less than ten minutes."

The brunet sighed. As if he didn't know that; Minho knew everybody. "I'll try to remember that." 

So, soulful brown eyes and athletic build, huh? That sounded pretty damn great. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all, or at least not completely. Maybe.

It was then that the doorbell went off, announcing the arrival of a new customer. "Can you get that?" Minho asked Thomas, glancing in the general direction of the door. "I'll be right back."

"Sure", the brunet answered, turning around to face the customer as he heard the swinging door open behind himself, witnessing Minho's leaving.

At the counter, there was a boy, approximately Thomas' age, maybe a year older. He was wearing a beanie against the wind, but messy strands of blond hair were fighting their way free from underneath it. He was incredibly tall, six two or three, for sure, and his hipster coat and leather shoes spoke of a creative profession.

Attractive, definitely attractive.

"Hi there!" Thomas greeted the guy, smiling broadly, happy he'd escaped his weird conversation with Minho. Also, he could smell the guy's aftershave, and it was really nice; fresh yet somehow spicy. "What can I get you?"

"Hello." Even those two syllables gave away the fact that the guy was British. Also definitely attractive. The disapproving look with which he regarded the selection of drinks printed onto a colourful sign, however, was less attractive. "Erm... Not sure yet."

"Right." The brunet was well aware of the fact that some customers took more time deciding on a drink than others, and just smiled his relaxed smile. "Do you need any help making that decision?"

The young man had huge, dark brown eyes, which were now looking at Thomas in a way that let him know his customer was not in a good mood. "Not bloody likely. Just give me a sec, will ya?"

Whoa. Thomas raised his eyebrows. All those attractive features (straight nose, full lips, angular chin,... not that he noticed) were obviously wasted on such a grumpy face. He backed off a pace, straightening the napkin box on the counter to keep his hands from balling into fists. What was that guy's problem? The brunet was used to grumpy customers... But usually they were not that handsome. Curious, he wondered, how you expect attractive people to also have a great personality. Obviously that wasn't true for everybody. Not that he was judgemental. But that was not how you treated the person presenting you with something as vital as coffee.

The guy sighed. "I'll just have a medium cappuccino." And why was he sighing? Choosing a drink really wasn't that hard. "Sure", Thomas said nevertheless, starting to prepare the drink immediately. Since the guy was the only customer, it wasn't necessary to ask his name. Not that Thomas would have wanted to know. He would only have been interested. Surely someone like that didn't have a nice name. 

Just as he filled the cup, Minho came back and Thomas was thrilled to have someone to roll his eyes at. His best friend immediately caught on, eyeing the customer suspiciously, wiggling his eyebrows at his co-worker in a way that definitely said "What a douchebag."

The brunet returned to the counter with a steaming cup, named the price and his customer handed him the money. "That's not exactly cheap, is it?" the blond asked, his perfect eyebrows raised.

The nerves the guy had. Thomas put on a brave face and answered: "Well, we're not exactly McCafé, so we do charge more. Sorry about that. You might taste the difference, though." That might have been bitchy, but he just couldn't help it - he'd had to say something.

The customer sneered. "I'll let you know next time, if there'll be one." Oh God, please won't let there be one; the brunet wasn't sure he could stand that awful guy for another second. "Please do", he answered nonetheless, just as sarcastically.

As he handed him his change, Thomas made sure he didn't touch his hand; he almost never did that, because money had plenty of germs on it as it was and he was gonna sanitize his hands anyway, but this guy was just so awkward that he didn't want anything more to do with him then necessary. He didn't even want his germs.

"Good bye", Thomas said, but what he really meant was "good riddance"; the guy didn't reply, though, just grabbed his cup and left the shop without another word.

Minho was by his side with lightening-like speed. "What's wrong with that shank?" he asked, his tone incredulous, his face an exact mirror of that emotion. "He needs to shucking relax."

Thomas was still in trance; how could a guy who was that attractive be so incredibly rude? He wasn't gonna share that thought with Minho, though; it might just have re-opened the dating discussion. "With a little luck, we'll never see him again." He really hoped to have a little luck for once; luck seemed to be avoiding him lately, just the way he avoided his exes.

The raven-haired boy petted his shoulder. "There, there, it's gonna be fine." He gave Thomas a quizzical look. "What?"

Damn! Was he THAT easy to read?! Hesitatingly, the brunet relented. "It's just... He's kinda hot, though."

Minho sighed. "Just like I said - I need to get you someone to screw."

"Absolutely not."

"Hell yeah."

"NO, Minho! You wanna hear it German? NO!"

"That's not German, you shank!"

The discussion continued for a few minutes before his best friend promised not to surprise Thomas with double dates but to always give him the opportunity to back out. That outcome satisfied them both, and they finished their shift and walked to class, the rain actually being more of a soft drizzle and thus not so bad. The lecture was interesting, the following lunch with Minho and Gally fun as always; however, for the whole day, Thomas wasn't able to shake the thought of the tall blond guy who'd been so rude to him. What had been wrong with his attitude - why had that eye candy been a complete and utter douchebag? The brunet was sure he could be nice (his faith in humanity would never die), and he wanted to witness that; also, his face would look really nice with a smile on it.

Oh, who was he kidding, that guy was a total idiot, but still hot, and he just wanted to check him out once more. Hopefully he'd be back the next day. And hopefully Minho would be the one serving him while Thomas just watched.


	2. Fit But You Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blond Brit strikes again. Thomas feels his dignity crumble to dust. Enjoy!

The following day, Thomas found himself looking up from whatever he was doing whenever he heard the bell announce another customer throughout his shift. The handsome English jerk hadn't left his mind for more than an hour at a time since their first encounter, even having a cameo in his dream, and he really wanted to get another good look at him. Because with every passing hour, the brunet was beginning to question his judgement more. Maybe the hot guy hadn't been all that handsome and Thomas was just idealizing him now. Maybe he really hadn't been all that rude - maybe he himself had had a bad day and had been overly touchy. Maybe the episode hadn't been all that bizarre. But there was only one way to find out.

Minho could obviously tell he wasn't giving his work too much thought, and he took over more than once when Thomas was lost in daydreams, but didn't even comment on it. Despite all his nosiness and sass, he was actually a very loyal friend.

That was, until the constant stream of coffee addicts subsided into a mere trickle and the conversation turned to their potential evening plans. 

"There's this new Mexican restaurant, you know? In Union Street?" Minho said while putting mugs into the dishwasher behind the counter. Thomas was picking up more used mugs from the tables, checking the wooden surfaces for coffee stains; someone had to wipe them, by the looks of it. 

"No, I don't know. Sounds good", he answered, thankful for the light conversation topic. Mexican food sounded amazing, as did a relaxed night out with his best friend. Just what he needed.

"So I thought we could maybe get a few of our friends together and check it out tonight? The food's supposed to be amazing."

"Sure", Thomas said, taking the mugs over to the dishwasher and starting to load it as well. He was fine with bringing the others - the more, the merrier, they said. "You, me, Brenda, Gally?"

Minho hesitated for just a second. Oh-oh. The brunet looked up to meet his eyes before releasing a tiny sigh. "Who else did you have in mind?"

The raven-haired boy's expression changed from guilty to eager in a split second. "You know Brenda's friend Rachel?"

Thomas sighed again, this time more elaborately. Freaking hell. "No, I don't know Brenda's friend Rachel. Why?"

Minho shrugged as if it wasn't important. "Nothing, she's just really nice and clever and also extremely pretty. Law student. Long, blond hair, blue eyes..."

Thomas could practically feel his face twist into a mask of distaste rather than actively deciding to look pained himself. If that didn't sound like a commercial for a dating website, he didn't know what did. Also, none of the points Minho had made sounded particularly tempting; neither long nor blond hair nor a future in law were on his list for a potential partner. If his friend had said "can quote Marvel movies and likes to read Dystopian novels", he would actually have been tempted... But not like that. 

"Do you think that I can't get anybody to date me? Is that it? I mean, I did have relationships in the past, you know, and I even managed to start them without you being there." He put down two mugs a bit too hard, but luckily, none of them broke.

Minho snorted. "Teresa was your high school sweetheart who left you for a frat dude-bro and Jeff was a guy you chatted up at the Long Library Night. Pray, tell me about your flirting proficiency."

Thomas just stared at him, imagining his eyes shooting lightening bolts that would electrocute the raven-haired boy.

His best friend immediately changed tactics. "Oh, come on, Thomas, it's not gonna be weird, Gally will be there as well."

Oh perfect, then it would most definitely be weird. "Then it's most definitely gonna be weird."

Minho tried to say something, but Thomas interrupted him. "Min, listen, why is it so important to you? It's not like I am depressed or anything; I don't want a relationship at the moment!" he said, rather forcefully, rising to his full height and leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. He was sick of this discussion. "I really don't want awkward blind dates, and I don't want to have to find a significant other just so Brenda and you have someone to double-date with. I am not frustrated, I simply don't want any more drama at the moment. So would you please just leave me alone?"

Minho just looked at him, obviously stunned, and didn't answer.

Then Thomas heard a low whistle behind them, and when he turned, he saw HIM. The blond guy. The jerk. The hot one.

He wasn't wearing anything on his head today, and the brunet could see just how tousled and wild his blond hair looked - somehow really messy and very shampoo commercial-y at the same time. Perfection. It was beyond frustrating.

And he was even hotter than Thomas remembered.

His hands in his pockets, their customer grinned a cocky grin. "Am I interrupting something? Should I come back later?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. It was a nice voice, Thomas decided. Musical. He should probably read audio books for a living.

But what the hell, how had he come in without either of them noticing? Had Thomas been that loud? He felt a wave of heat creep into his face. That was freakin' embarrassing. How much had he heard? Did he think that the brunet couldn't get any dates now? And most importantly, why did Thomas even care?

"No, it's fine", the brunet answered in lack of a good comeback (Goddammit!), grabbing a cloth from the sink. "Can you get that? I'll go clean the tables", he told Minho, not really looking at him. He was still annoyed, but mostly by his own reaction.

"Sure", his best friend answered, proceeding to the counter. "What can I get you?"

Starting with the closest table so he could actually hear the conversation (and check out the guy's butt - dammit, nothing much to be seen with that coat on him!), Thomas wiped the surface more carefully than he normally would have.

"I'll have a medium cappuccino", their customer announced before, to the brunet's surprise, he turned to him. "Because I did taste the difference... Tommy", he said, looking at his nametag, smirking. The diminutive nickname annoyed Thomas; nobody had called him Tommy since kindergarten, and he didn't plan on re-introducing it into his life. However, this time he did try for a comeback.

"Did you now? I thought it was my excellent service that brought you back", he answered, trying to keep a straight face and not stick out his tongue at the guy.

The blond boy actually grinned at that, and it suited him; it wasn't the ironic wolf's grin Thomas would have anticipated, but there was actual amusement in those dark eyes. It vanished almost immediately, but it had definitely been there. Huh.

"You assumed wrong", he said, half a smirk still on his face, turning back to Minho, handing him some change to pay for his coffee.

Eyeing him once more, the brunet came to two conclusions; yes, he was very attractive and yes, he was very annoying. An intriguing combination as long as he didn't actually have to serve him. Because then he would most likely have to throw with coffee cups.

As if the guy had heard him think, he turned back to Thomas, his eyebrows raised. "You wouldn't know the quickest way to college from here, would you?"

'You wouldn't know' - what was that supposed to mean? Did he not look intelligent enough to be an actual university student? Did he look younger than 17? Surely not?!

Also, why didn't he just ask Minho, who was currently putting chocolate onto his cappuccino? Turning away from the barista seemed kind of rude to Thomas, but then again, he reminded himself of who he was facing. Blond rude boy. He briefly wondered if Rihanna had written her song about Mr Hot here.

"Actually, I do", the brunet snapped. "When outside, turn left and follow the street down the hill. At the end of it, turn right into High Street and follow it as well, then you should see it soon on the left side. Walking is quicker than the bus and it will take you about ten minutes." Bang. That was a very good description. Nobody would doubt his being a student now. He glanced over at Minho, who just looked back, his eyebrows raised as if this whole conversation was weirding him out, which it probably was.

"Right", the blond guy said, looking rather neutral. See? He was impressed. "Cheers."

Thomas fought with himself for two seconds as the blond grabbed his coffee, then simply burst out: "Do I not look like a student?"

Mr Hot turned around to look at him, his facial expression one of astonishment. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, bewilderment obvious in his tone, his accent thicker with the real emotion of surprise. Thomas felt himself blush once more as Minho hid his face in his hands.

"Oh... I was just wondering because of the way you'd phrased the question", the brunet answered, feeling sillier by the second as he saw the customer grin again. "I don't know, maybe it's the apron", Blondie said nonchalantly before passing him on his way outside, again not saying goodbye.

What. An. Utter. Bastard.

Thomas still looked after him in awe of his sass and his lack of manners, catching the guy's eyes as he turned around at the door. The Brit raised his eyebrows at him, a smirk on his face, and the brunet blushed even deeper (if that was still possible), turning back to Minho just as he heard to door close.

Minho just stared at him for a few seconds before he got himself to open his mouth. "This is precisely why you need a date. What the hell, man."

Thomas groaned and let himself fall into a chair. What a complete and utter fail that had been. He felt like wishing for the ground to open beneath his feet and swallow him as a whole, but that was really clichéd and couldn't have been very comfortable, either. So he just took a deep breath and jumped to his feet. What had Teresa always said? Get up, straighten your crown, keep walking. Not that he wanted to think about Teresa. Oh God.

"Right", he said as if nothing had happened, but Minho's worried face betrayed that he again wasn't fooled by Thomas' acting "skills". "So, when are we going out for dinner tonight?"

His best friend raised his eyebrows as the brunet walked around the counter and joined him in cleaning the coffee machine. "You wanna go?" he asked, trying for a nonchalant tone, but failing. See? Minho's acting skills weren't any better than his own. Probably.

"Sure", Thomas said, "it will be fun. And I am sure Brenda's friend is really nice - I mean, Brenda likes her, and I trust her judgement." He even managed to smile at Minho, who smiled back, obviously pleased with his friend's remark. And it was probably true; this Rachel would most likely be a very nice girl; maybe she did like dystopias and had the Avenger theme song as her ringtone, or maybe she enjoyed running and jazz music. He would stay open-minded and not judge her just because Minho's description hadn't been what he would introduce a person with. 

"Alright", Minho answered, still obviously happy about Thomas' praise concerning his girlfriend. "Then I'll arrange something. Around eight, maybe? We only have seminar tomorrow afternoon so it doesn't matter if we... Stay a bit longer, right?"

The brunet closed his eyes for a split second, suppressing a groan; if Minho had wanted to hint at the possibility that he could take Rachel home with him, he'd just ignore it. "Sounds fine", he answered simply.

His best friend immediately had his phone in hands, texting the others and calling the restaurant while Thomas took care of the next customers.

"Eight works perfectly for everyone - and apparently we got the last table!" Minho announced enthusiastically as soon as the two men were seated at a table with their coffee. "It's gonna be great!"

Thomas smiled, and curiously, he found himself to be rather looking forward to tonight. Sure, his excitement wasn't as overflowing as Minho's, but then again, he loved Mexican food, his best friend, another very good friend of theirs and Brenda, whom he considered his own friend as much as he did Gally, would be there, and maybe Rachel would be amazing. And if not, Gally could have her and he'd goof around with Brenda and Minho. He briefly felt bad about having that thought, but then again Gally really was desperate for a girlfriend after his own personal catastrophic breakup last spring. So maybe it was actually Gally Minho was worried about, not Thomas, and he should only come along to make it less weird? That was not unlikely. The thought made the brunet feel better; he'd enjoy himself tonight.

And he absolutely wouldn't think about a certain blond boy who surely thought he was a complete lunatic and who he thought was, despite his manner issues, absolutely gorgeous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, I managed an early update, yeay! :)  
> Thanks so much for the overwhelmingly positive feedback!! :3 I love every single one of you <3  
> So Thomas is going to have a date... Let's see if it goes well or if a certain blond someone will manage to ruin that as well... *ducks and runs away*  
> As always, please let me know what you think in the comments and I would love to chat a bit with you so if you guys are on tumblr - my url is nerdylovelyme :)  
> I don't know if I'll manage to upload next week (I am behind on my reading, and I also have to write an essay, get a tattoo and go to a Fall Out Boy concert - busy week), but I'll do my best for you, as always!  
> Loads of love xx
> 
> P.S. The title is inspired by the song "Fit But You Know It" by The Streets and you should probably not listen to it because it will be stuck in your head for AGES :D


	3. You're Just Not The Girl For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is not quite taken with Rachel. Where is a certain blond, when you need him...? Oh, wait.

Thomas was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he was nailing the "oh I haven't even thought about my outfit but here I am, stunning as always" look. Probably, he thought, but he wasn't stunning. Not that he was exactly aiming for stunning. He wasn't really bothered about appearances (only when sexy English guys were concerned) but he wanted to look nice. Thomas had chosen a green long-sleeved shirt to bring out the tiny green spots in his "soulful brown eyes" (damn that sounded so freakin' cool!) and to show off the fact that he did indeed like to do sports, and jeans that Brenda had helped him buy (not that Minho knew - that would have been too embarrassing), but he would only know if he looked okay when meeting her at the restaurant and then it would be too late. The brunet hadn't bothered to do anything with his hair; it was relatively short and thus orderly, anyway.

Right. That's the best he could do. He shrugged at himself in the mirror; if Rachel didn't like him, then so be it.

Thomas grabbed his wallet and keys and left his room. He shared his apartment with Minho and Gally; it was a cosy flat, about a ten-minute walk from both their workplace as well as from university. Their rooms weren't too big, but they had a nice living room, and the great location made up for the tiny imperfections their home featured, like the fact that the bathtub leaked a bit or that they didn't have an elevator. The brunet loved the apartment dearly.

Gally was sitting on the couch in the living room that was immediately connected to Thomas' room. If the brunet was tall, which he was, Gally was enormous, and his build reminded distinctly of a Rugby player. They hadn't gotten on very well when they first met, but Thomas soon came to like the guy for his loyalty and his patience in explaining even the most complicated things in a way that everybody could understand it. He tended to be quick-tempered when it came to conflicts in their apartment, but all in all Gally was an amazing buddy to have.

Said buddy raised his head when Thomas came in. "Can you please tell Minho he doesn't have to groom himself for his girlfriend of five months?"

The brunet let himself fall onto the couch beside his flatmate. "You tell him", he said, "he'll just give me a speech about what girls like and I really don't need that."

"Same." They shared a look and rolled their eyes in one of their frequent moments of comradery against Love Guru Minho, who happened to enter the room just now. In his white shirt his bronze-coloured skin looked amazing - even Thomas had to admit that, even though he would never have said it out loud; envy wasn't an attractive trait, his mum had told him over and over again.

"Up, up!", Minho commanded, "We'll be late!"

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "And whose fault is that?" Gally snorted next to him.

"Yours, duh", Minho answered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Let's go!"

Once everyone was wearing a pair of converse and a jacket against the biting wind, they left their apartment and started walking swiftly in direction of Union Street. It wasn't a particularly long walk, the cold accelerating their steps, and they made it to the restaurant in less than ten minutes, causing them to enter it at eight o'clock sharp.

Thomas immediately liked the place; it was spacious enough not to feel claustrophobic with the what must have been at least eighty guests that were seated at rustic wooden tables all over the big room that was shaped like an L. On the far wall, a massive wooden bar ran along the length of the room, promising them delicious cocktails not all of them were old enough to actually order. The colour scheme was warm, reminding of a summer evening with its shades of yellow and orange, and despite the soft music and the chatter of dozens of guests, the acoustic was fine so that they weren't overwhelmed with noise. Perfect conditions for a nice evening.

They found the girls at a table with a booth close to the bar; Brenda immediately sprang to her feet, a huge smile on her face. She really was a pretty girl; her hair was cut in a sassy pixie style that accentuated her personality perfectly, and even though she was rather short, her charisma made her unmissable even in a crowd.

"Hey guys", she welcomed them warmly, hugging Gally and Thomas and pecking Minho on the lips. "You're actually on time, I am shocked", she added with a cheeky grin before taking a step to the side. "Everyone, this is Rachel."

"Hi", the blond girl said and smiled at all three of them. Her huge blue eyes had a warm expression, and with her tiny freckles and slightly crooked front teeth that gave her smile something cute, Thomas thought she was undeniably pretty.

"Hi, I'm Thomas", he introduced himself, extending his hand to shake hers; it was soft and rather big for a girl's hand, but then again, Rachel was tall, clearly over fife nine and towering over Brenda. He caught the short girl's eyes, and she gave him a meaningful look and a thumbs up. So his choice had been right. Thanks the Gods (the old ones and the new).

"Nice to meet you", Rachel said, smiling a bit wider, before Gally introduced himself and they all took their seats. Thomas ended up sitting between the girls.

"Have you been waiting for long?", Minho asked, sitting opposite his girlfriend and smiling goofily at her. Gally and Thomas exchanged a look and he saw Rachel biting her lip. Definitely likeable, that woman.

"Not at all", Brenda replied just before the waiter appeared with the menus.

There was a bit of embarrassing silence, but with a menu to hide behind, Thomas felt okay, and somehow he worked up the courage to ask Rachel what she was having.

"Not sure yet", she said quietly, casting him a quick glance and looking back onto her menu. Oh, a shy one, was she? Maybe not the best thing if you wanted to be a lawyer but okay, who was he to judge, he'd only known here for like ninety seconds.

Once the menus were gone and the food was ordered (nachos with guacamole and sour cream and chicken fajitas for Thomas because hell yeah, that's what he went running for), Brenda started talking about her latest university course; she was in the teacher training program, studying to teach primary school, and the brunet could not have imagined a better person for the job, because despite all her sass and cheeky comments, there wasn't a kinder human being on the planet. Just a few weeks back, she had slept at their place for almost a week because all three boys had come down with a very bad cold and Brenda had cooked soup, changed and washed bed sheets and bought medicine without ever complaining about not having enough time to study. Since then, all three of them officially loved her.

However, since Minho and his girlfriend were now busy talking, Thomas felt bad for Rachel, and he decided to make conversation. "So, how did you and Brenda get to know each other?"

The blond girl looked down at her hands. "Brenda walked up to me in the library one time." Oh yeah, Thomas could imagine that it had been the shorter girl addressing her first.

"Okay?" he said, prompting her to keep talking.

"That's it", she said, smiling apologetically. 

This would be a very long evening.

The food arrived fairly quickly, and throughout the starters (which were delicious), Thomas tried to coax out some more info from Rachel; music taste, favourite authors, hobbies she enjoyed. Alas, it was no use; the girl was either extremely shy or extremely boring. When the main dish arrived (more deliciousness), the brunet sighed in relief and dug in, listening to Minho telling Brenda about their new professor who was bordering 70 and was practically deaf, which always made for fun lessons, and added remarks so he was essential to the conversation, leaving Gally to deal with Rachel. His friend eagerly told the girl everything about himself, and Rachel smiled and nodded while eating her taco salad.

Here was the thing. The blond girl sitting next to him was undeniably pretty, maybe even beautiful, though Thomas didn't like to use the word for anyone who didn't prove to have a beautiful soul, and that was exactly the problem. Rachel was pretty, surely smart, and she seemed to be nice; however, she hadn't uttered a single opinion, was extremely reluctant to talk about herself and never asked a single question. She might have been shy, but Thomas found it just impossible to have a conversation with someone who contributed so little to it. He was sure Minho and Brenda had meant well, and maybe in private Rachel was a real party girl (probably not), but she didn't really give him anything to work with, and he might have been missing out on someone amazing, but right then, he had enough.

Finishing his fajita, he excused himself curtly to the bathroom, but instead he went for the exit to get a bit of fresh air. The room full of people and all the worrying about how to keep up a conversation with Rachel had made his head hurt, and he just felt the need for fresh air.

Stepping outside, the cold air hit him like a slap in the face, but it felt good, and he breathed deeply. He looked up and down the street, now completely painted with the yellow-ish light coming from the street lamps. A guy was standing just a few feet away from him, typing on his phone. Thomas wouldn't have thought twice of it, but something about his posture seemed oddly familiar... And then he realised.

It was the blond British sexy idiot guy.

Thomas gasped, just because he was so stunned to see him again. And in his amazing coat. And with the weirdly amazing hair.

The guy looked up. There was a quizzical expression on his face for two seconds, then recognition chased it away, followed by surprise. "If that isn't my coffee bloke. Tommy, isn't it?" That sounded genuinely nice, Thomas realised to his surprise.

"Yeah", he answered, for lack of a better reply; he couldn't very well say "that's my rude customer I find extremely attractive".

The blond guy smiled; Thomas wondered if he might have had a cocktail or two in the restaurant to make him more relaxed. "Did the noise give you a headache, too?" His grin turned a bit nastier, just like the brunet knew (and loved) it. "Or was it the two girls?"

Thomas just stared for two seconds. The blond continued to grin. "I saw you, alright. But you looked less than happy."

Damn it, he really had to try and keep his facial expressions under control; probably the whole restaurant knew now how boring he thought Rachel to be. "Both, probably", he answered honestly with a shrug, causing the British guy to laugh, and again, his laughter was much more genuine and nice than his usual ironic expression.

"If you need to get out of there, let me know. I could pose as the jealous ex-lover and make a scene", he said, winking nonchalantly. Winking. Thomas couldn't recall anyone ever to have winked at him. What a weird thing to do. Weird and strangely hot.

"Er..." he answered very cleverly, "I'm good at the moment. But thanks for the offer", he continued, hoping that the dim light would hide his blush. The blond regarded him for a few seconds, and there was something in his expression he couldn't quite put his finger on. The silence was uncomfortable, and Thomas was glad when the other guy interrupted it.

"Alright", Blondie said, "I'm going inside again. The desserts are apparently wicked." Turning to the door, he paused for a second. "See you later, Tommy", he added, not looking at him, before disappearing into the restaurant.

The only two things Thomas could successfully think during the next three minutes were "Oh my God he remembers my name!" and "He totally said goodbye this time!"

When he finally walked back inside, he tried not to look around and search for his favourite customer, but he failed miserably; still, he didn't see him. Maybe he had a table in the other line of the L the restaurant was shaped like.

Taking his seat, he brushed Brenda's arm, and the girl looked up. "Where you outside? Are you okay?" Thomas really appreciated the concerned look on her face, and he immediately decided to jump onto that train. "I've got quite a head ache", he said, rubbing his forehead for emphasis. "I think I should go home."

"Oh no, Thomas, come on", Minho protested, "we thought we could maybe go out after dessert!" He looked actually disappointed, and the brunet almost felt bad. Almost.

"I'll be in next time, I promise", he said, putting all the pain he had in his voice. "I just really don't feel up for it tonight."

"That's okay, no worries", Brenda said, "do you wanna leave right now or have dessert?"

Thank you, Brenda. "Right now sounds pretty amazing, actually."

They all got up to hug him goodbye, and he once again shook Rachel's hand. "It was nice meeting you", he said, not meaning it, but immediately felt bad about it when she smiled at his remark. "You too", she added. Great. Hopefully she didn't think he wanted to date her or anything. That would suck.

"See you at breakfast", Brenda said when embracing him, and then he put on his jacket, handed Minho a few bills, waved a last time and quickly left before anyone could hold him back. Again, he didn't see the hot Brit on his way out. Damn, where was he sitting? He might have sneaked a peak - surely he didn't wear his hipster coat indoors?

Walking home through the windy evening air, he thought about the evening. So Rachel was a cute girl, but she was just not the girl for him. Maybe she liked Gally - he seemed really taken with her.

Just like he was taken with a certain somebody.

The blond guy had looked so nice tonight, and that last remark - what was it with the jealous ex-lover?

Oh. OH.

Maybe he was into guys as well. Maybe he had been flirting.

Thomas cringed at how he hadn't thought of that earlier. It really could have been a move, right? Right? And he'd totally messed it up. Oh God. Now he really felt like going home and drawing the blankets over his head. What if Blondie now thought that the brunet was 100 per cent straight? What if he would never try to flirt again? And what if he hadn't been flirting at all and Thomas was just seeing things he wanted to see?

Sighing, he sped up his steps to reach the apartment more quickly. There was no use in thinking that to death. He'd just wait and see. He could also ask Brenda. And he couldn't really date a customer anyway, that was weird. That was how Jeff's weird obsession with him had started, and he wouldn't do that again. Nope. Definitely not.

And still, as he walked up the stairs to his door, the little voice in his mind going "why not" wouldn't shut up. Maybe he should just go to sleep and think about it tomorrow. Damn, it wasn't even that late yet, just past ten. Alone with his thoughts, he settled with his newest SciFi novel, and even though it took him ages to get into it, he finally managed to immerse himself in the book, falling asleep over it an hour later.

And even though he had met two blonds that evening, it was really no question who of them appeared in his dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter, my dear friends!! I hope you liked it!!  
> I'm sorry for the late update, but I caught up on my reading (sort of), got a tattoo (it's healing and itchy as eff) and Fall Out Boy were amazing :) Also, it's my birthday tomorrow, yeay :D  
> So yeah, anyway, Rachel doesn't seem to be what our Tommy needs, but Newt is so mysterious... Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, I'll answer asap, just like always :)  
> Have a great day and loads of love xx
> 
> P.S. The title is a reference to the song "Stacy's Mom" by Fountains of Wayne, they played it before the FOB show and now it's stuck in my head so I thought, why not use it :D


	4. Fascination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Brenda awesomeness and a whole lot of Newtmas. What else is there to say? Enjoy!

Thomas woke, his cheek pressed against the hardcover of his novel, to the sound of Brenda's laughter. Shaking his head to rid himself of his grogginess, he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was eight o'clock, plenty of time for him to go back to sleep before he had to get up to go to his lecture, but he actually felt very refreshed, and Brenda's chuckling once more reached his ear, so he got out of bed, threw on a hoodie and left his room.

Brenda was sitting on the couch, a book on her lap and a delighted grin on her face. Upon hearing Thomas come into the room, she raised her head to look at him and immediately closed her book. "Good morning, patient!" she said, smiling up at him. "My book is hilarious, by the way, in case you didn't notice. How are you feeling?" She got up from her sitting position; Brenda was wearing boxer briefs and a sweatshirt, both obviously Minho's, but she didn't wear it in a look-at-me-I-was-naked-with-your-best-friend way - it just made her even tinier.

Thomas yawned and stretched. "I'm fine", he said, in no mood to talk about Rachel (or Newt, for that matter) on an empty stomach. "Breakfast?"

The girl nodded, and the brunet followed her into the kitchen. The two of them had recently discovered that they both loved waffles for breakfast, so now they always made them together when they got the chance to. Thomas started the coffee machine while Brenda gathered all the needed equipment. He could feel an interrogation coming, and so he assembled all the ingredients on the kitchen table to at least appear busy.

"You were not exactly taken with Rachel."

It wasn't a question, but a simple statement. Thomas gulped. He bumped the eggs against the kitchen table to break their shells. "That's harsh."

She didn't look at him, just got the waffle iron out. "Well, it's true, isn't it."

Again - not a question.

Thomas sighed, unsure what to say. Should he tell Brenda about the blond guy? Was there anything to tell, even? It was not like anything had happened. He was just, in some weird way, developing an awkward crush on a total stranger. But then again, it would feel nice to talk to someone about it. Probably.

"It's just..." The brunet paused, mentally formulating his sentence before uttering it. "I don't think Rachel is what I need right now."

"And that maybe the guy from the coffee shop is?"

Thomas spun around, staring at Brenda, who was weighing butter as if nothing had happened. He continued to stare at her until she looked up at him, her eyes huge and innocent.

Minho. That bastard.

"Brenda. What did he tell you." The words were monotonous, pressed out between his clenched teeth. The girl raised her hands as if in defence. "Whoa, Thomas, he didn't tell me... A lot." Thomas continued to stare her down, six one against five three, and finally, she sighed.

"Fine. So he told me that this guy showed up at your shop twice and that you acted weird on both occasions. I asked Min if he were hot, but of course, he wouldn't answer that question. I'm just adding two and two, man. Minho doesn't suspect a thing." She dumped the butter into Thomas' bowl. "Is there even anything to suspect?"

The brunet released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He picked up a spatula and started whisking the ingredients furiously. "No", he said, but he lingered on the o, as if unsure of it himself.

"So he is hot?" It was the first real question Brenda asked, and Thomas didn't need to think about the answer twice, but he still waited for a bit before nodding his head. "Pretty much, yeah", he admitted, adding flour to the dough-to-be. 

"So that's good, right? That you're crushing on people again?" The girl wouldn't leave it be. Thomas only answered when the dough was ready; frankly, he himself didn't know whether it was a good thing or not.

"I don't really know, you know?" he said honestly, looking at the red light that signalled the waffle to be baking while Brenda set the table. "It's not like anything's going on or anything. We only talked a couple times. Well, he talked, I just embarrassed myself. I am... Fascinated, if that is the right word?" It so was. Fascination was exactly what he felt. The red light was replaced by a green one, and Thomas took the waffle out to place it on a plate. It was crisp and smelled mouth-wateringly amazing. "He's too cool for me, anyway."

Brenda elbowed him. "I find that very hard to believe", she said cheerfully, and when he looked up - or down, rather - at her, she was smiling. "If he's into guys, he has to be into you. They always are."

Thomas smiled back at her and, in a brotherly gesture, ruffled her hair. She laughed and punched him in the arm, but didn't really seem to mind - she had featured a serious case of bed hair before, so his ruffling was actually almost an improvement.

He had been right - it was nice to talk to Brenda about the things that busied his brain. She understood his insecurities, but also tried to take them away and always pushed his self-esteem like no one else ever could. Sure, it wasn't like he had shared a significant secret with her, but just the fact that he could now tell Brenda about his encounters with Blondie made Thomas feel much better.

They dropped the subject and continued to make waffles, chatting about this and that until all the dough was used up and Brenda left the room to wake Minho and Gally. She sort of lingered in the doorway, and Thomas knew that somehow she wasn't quite satisfied with their conversation just yet. "What is it, Bren?" he asked, unnerved by her lurking.

The girl shrugged. "I was just... Is it still okay if we go out some time and take Rachel? I think she liked us as a group, even though she was kind of shy yesterday."

Thomas smiled, because that sounded harmless enough, right? Right? "Sure, why not."

"Cool." Brenda grinned briefly. "You might wanna get started on your waffles because once I wake the two giants, there won't be much left." And since truer words had never been spoken, Thomas sat down and dug in.

...

A couple of days later, it was Thomas' turn to close up the coffee shop at night. He liked those shifts in a weird way; sure, it was Sunday night, and it would have been cool to spend it at home with a good book, his friends, his Xbox, takeout or all four of the above. But since hardly anyone came in after five, and he had to close up the place at seven, the brunet had the place almost to himself for two heavenly hours - he could play whichever music he wanted, even sing and dance along a bit if he felt like it, or read, or basically do whatever. And later, when he would be home, the boys would have ordered pizza and they would watch a movie - their Sunday night tradition. So friends and takeout were on his schedule, anyway, in just an hour. Also, Sunday shifts were paid better, so why complain?

Thomas was listening to Jack Johnson, hummed along and stared outside the window at the October rain while he dried mugs. The weather had been terrible those last weeks, almost English. English. That made him think of his "favourite" (okay yes he was his favourite, damn it) customer again. He would enjoy the weather, probably. His trench coat looked as if it could keep the damp out, his trench coat...

His trench coat was approaching the door.

Thomas shook his head slightly as if to get rid of an illusion. But there he was - the blond Brit, pushing the door open.

His hair was slightly damp from the rain and extremely tangled, his cheeks flushed from the cold, but he looked as handsome as ever - maybe even more so. He looked up and, as he caught Thomas' eye, broke into his ironic half smile.

"Tommy!" he exclaimed, approaching the counter. "Why do I always have the luck of meeting you here?" He put both hands up on the wooden surface, leaning against it. The touch of colour in his cheeks went perfectly with his dark eyes. Thomas was smitten. But he had to stay cool.

"Probably because poor students have to work a lot?" he said, smiling lightly and shrugging. 

The blond raised his eyebrows, but his smile widened. "Right. Forgot about that." His eyes darted up to the menu, then back to Thomas' face. "Can I have a large cappuccino, please?"

Whoa, so he did have manners! Impressive. "Sure", Thomas said, unable to suppress a smile at his customer's behaviour. He grabbed a to-go cup, but the guy raised his own hand as if to stop him. "I'd rather drink it here", he said. The brunet must have looked quite astonished, because Blondie seemed weirdly apologetic all of a sudden. "I know it's more work for you, because you have to wash the mug and such, but... It's just so cosy in here", he added, glancing over his shoulder at the rain outside. 

He was gonna stay here? With him? Alone? WHAT?

Thomas composed himself (or rather, tried to and failed miserably). "What, no, that's not a problem!" Not as subtle as he would have liked, but still a coherent utterance. Good. He grabbed a mug and made to fulfil the blond's wish. For a few seconds, it was silent apart from the sounds of the brunet's movements and the coffee machine. The routine helped, it made him almost feel calm. Get a saucer, get the obligatory cookie... Then -

"What do you study?"

Thomas turned around. The blond was still leaning against the counter. There was something about him when he was leaning - oh, whom was he kidding, there was always something about him - that made Thomas' heart beat faster. Stay cool, he told himself. It's worked out rather well so far, don't spoil it on such an easy question.

"I'm in med school", he said, turning back to his work place and grabbing a glass to fill with water. Yes. Success.

"Wicked! So you're a smart kid, aren't you?" The fact that Blondie sounded really impressed was music to his ears. He grabbed the mug of steaming coffee and put it onto the saucer on the readied tray next to the glass of water and the obligatory cookie and set the whole thing onto the counter. "I don't know about being smart, I just wanna be a doctor", he said, smiling half a smile, feeling almost at ease. "That's three eighty, please."

The guy handed him a couple of coins and also dropped some into the tip jar. Thomas, upon having put the money away, expected the guy to leave for a table, but he just kept on leaning. "So that's why you were upset about me asking if you knew the way to college." 

So he did remember. 

It sounded like a casual observation, but his dark eyes were on the brunet's face, intent as always. His gaze made Thomas nervous, so he turned around to find something to clean or do. "Don't mention it", he said neutrally, hoping the guy would drop it.

"I'm sorry I offended you."

What?!

Thomas turned around once more, this time actually speechless. The guy was still looking at him with that weird expression as if he could read his mind if he just tried hard enough. His eyes were so huge and dark and... Fascinating, there still was no better word for it.

The brunet bit his tongue to snap out of it. "It's okay", he said, shrugging. The blond raised one corner of his mouth in a half-smile, then reached for his mug to take a sip.

Thomas' biggest fear in that moment was that the conversation could end. Or continue. Both at the same time.

"And you? Do you study as well, since you asked for the way to college?" That sounded cool enough; thank the Gods (the Greek and the Roman ones). He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd seen a spark of relief in the other boy's eyes, but it was gone almost immediately. Maybe he'd just imagined it.

"I do, in fact", he said, his mug still in his hands as if to warm his fingers on it, which was probably the case. "Music and journalism. I want to be a critic when I grow up." He said it ironically, but there was a passion in his voice and eyes when he talked about his subjects that betrayed his love for what he did. And Thomas gave himself a mental high five for correctly guessing one of his main subjects without even knowing him.

"I thought you had musician's hands."

The words were out before he could think about them. Thomas closed his eyes for a second, in total horror, and upon reopening them saw the blond smile mischievously. "Did you now", he said, sounding very British indeed. "And what instrument would you have guessed, doctor?" Now that was being just downright sassy. Or flirty. Or maybe both. Thomas prayed for the colour to drain from his face, but instead he blushed a bit. 

Pretending to glance at the hand that his customer had placed on the counter as if for an examination (it really was a beautiful hand, though, if hands can be called beautiful in the first place), he said. "Piano, I'd say. Possibly also guitar, but you strike me as an ironic guy who unironically loves playing melancholic sonatas." He shrugged again and continued to stare down at the counter.

For several seconds, there was total silence apart from their breaths and the raindrops that were drumming against the windows like bullets. Then-

"Wow." Thomas raised his gaze to see the guy looking absolutely startled. His guard was down for once, and the brunet could study his features more closely; he looked somehow naked without the ironic glint in his eyes, and his lips were fuller without their usual sneer. His eyes were still huge, and he actually looked like a deer in the headlights for the few seconds it took him to compose himself.

Then the blond furrowed his brows, and a mock-pensive expression settled on his face. It was as if a door had been closed - his mask was on again. Thomas wondered why he even had one - his own face was an open book at all times. Okay, yeah, so that was probably why. Whatever.

"I thought I pulled off the mysterious guy rather well", the other boy said, "but here you are seeing right through me." He studied Thomas more closely, as if he was twice as interesting all of a sudden. Or, you know, interesting at all.

The brunet grinned a bit. "I think you pull off the mysterious guy just fine", he said. "I know nothing about you except that you like cappuccino and desserts. Oh yeah, and you have English roots and your manners could be better." He simply had to add that, just to see the guy's reaction.

"My manners?" Blondie rolled his eyes and put a hand over his heart in a dramatic gesture. "How dare you? My noble English ancestors raised me to be a lord, you barbaric American!" His grin was devious and possibly Thomas' new favourite thing in the world. He went along with the mockery, putting his hands to his hips and saying in his thickest American accent "Son, you ain't no lord if you can't say no goodbye to the hardworking people making your coffee."

The guy burst into a giggle, and even though the brunet just wanted to listen to the delightful musicality of his laughter, he couldn't help but laugh as well. It was incredible how the blond's face lit up from one second to another; it was as if one had flicked a light switch.

"Oh Tommy", his customer gasped, "be glad you won't be an actor because that was bloody horrible." He hiccupped quietly, which made him even more adorable, and reached for his coffee once more, obviously trying to calm down. Thomas grinned and reached for a cloth to wipe the counter while the guy quietly drank his coffee. He could close the shop soon, seven o'clock was approaching fast, but still, he wanted to prolong the moment.

"Did you just move here?" he asked, checking the coffee machine, wiping it and doing all the other tiny tasks that would save him time later but didn't hinder their conversation.

The blond nodded over the rim of his mug. "I've been living here for two years, but I just got a flat not far from here last week, so I'm not exactly familiar with this neighbourhood yet." He grinned. "But it seems like I've already found the sassiest barista." He? Sassy? That was new to Thomas. But he absolutely didn't mind. He had always thought he was a giant goofball, but a sass master? He liked the sound of that.

"You have", he thus agreed, grinning. The other guy grinned back, but just then, his phone rang, and he broke their eye contact to get it. "Oi mate", he greeted the person at the other end of the line. Thomas seized the opportunity to grab his empty mug and put it into the dishwasher while Blondie was chatting, his accent so thick he wouldn't have understood it even if he had been eavesdropping. Which he hadn't. Nope.

"Right", the guy said, and the brunet looked up. He was standing in front of the counter, not leaning anymore, phone still in hand, obviously ready to go. "I gotta go", he said casually, "but it's been nice chatting to you." His smile was ironic as always, but his dark eyes seemed sincere. Thomas felt his stomach churn in a weird way when their eyes met.

"You too", he said, and his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

The British guy nodded and turned as if to leave without saying goodbye again. Before he could stop himself, Thomas shouted: "Are you not gonna say goodbye?"

"No", the blond said loudly without turning around, sounding incredibly amused. In a fit of wild hope, the brunet added: "Can you at least tell me your name?"

That made him stop. Thomas could have slapped himself. How could he have been so freaking obvious? The guy knew he was into him now, hell, the freaking coffee machine probably knew he was into him! He groaned internally and bit his lip.

Blondie turned around. He eyed Thomas in a clearly amused way. "Forward, are you not?" he mused, his ironic grin in place. The brunet blushed and wished the guy would just leave so he could install a trapdoor in the coffee shop floor to safe him from future humiliation.

Finally, the guy broke the silence. "It's Newt." Two words that changed everything.

And before the brunet could glance at him one last time, he was gone.

All that remained was a Thomas who really needed to sit down to calm his racing heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this humble chapter :) I would appreciate your feedback - what do you think about Newt having a sensitive side, and do you like adorable Thomas? Tell me anything you want in the comments, I'll get back to you :)  
> This chapter's title was inspired by Alphabeat's "Fascination" (yes I'm very subtle) :)  
> You guys are the best <3   
> Have a great day and see you in 2 weeks xx


	5. ...but you can't blame me for hating it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Teresa, and see how Thomas (and Newt) handle the situation.

Throughout the next week, Thomas worked four shifts, and Newt appeared in every single one of them. Maybe he also visited the coffee shop when the brunet didn't have to work, but Thomas was too chicken to ask Minho about the blond; his friend might have interpreted the question the wrong way. Or the right way, actually.

They didn't always get to talk, since morning shifts tended to be rather busy, but once Newt actually caught him during the last minutes of his break. Thomas was having a cup of coffee himself and sitting at one of the tables; Janson, their superior, didn't want them to have breaks outside of the kitchen, but then again, who cared what that guy said. Minho was dealing with the customers, and the brunet was busy reading an article on a new surgery technology on his phone when a shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Newt. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of his flushed face, dark eyes and perfect half-ironic smile.

"I would ask", he said, in his sexy drawling voice, "but I gather that you'd be happy if I sat here."

That smug bastard. Thomas bit the inside of his cheek to control his facial expression. 

"Please", he said, gesturing to the chair opposite. Newt sat down gracefully (the brunet sometimes wondered if he was a trained dancer, too) and put his cup down. It was no to-go cup, Thomas noticed.

"Checking out some tinder profile, are you?" the blond commented ironically as he dropped his messenger bag on the floor next to him and took off his hat. It really was getting kind of cold; November was only days away, and there was a distinct iciness in the morning air that made Thomas want to stay in bed.

"Ha-ha", he deadpanned; he was getting quite good at silencing the witty Brit, or at least, he thought he was. "I'm reading an article about a doctor who's planning to do the first ever head transplantation."

The brunet glanced up at the blond, and he was surprised to see real interest in his eyes. "Really? A whole head?" He seemed gobsmacked. "Bloody hell. Why would you do that?" Newt actually looked shocked - it was a good look on him. But then again, every look was. Christ on a bike.

"Well", Thomas said, putting his elbows up onto the table and stirring his coffee with a spoon. "That's the question. Should it be used to safe a brilliant mind if their body is not functioning anymore? Would the patient be the exact same person? Would it be weird to have a totally different body? Should we even try to do that?" He shrugged. "It's largely also a question of ethics, not just mechanics." 

Newt seemed to contemplate that for a few seconds, then a grin appeared on his face. "And that's what you read over your morning coffee?"

Thomas couldn't help it; he felt himself blush this time. "To be fair, it's my second cup."

The blond's smile changed; it seemed very genuine all of a sudden. "Don't be embarrassed", he said, "I'm just teasing you. It's brilliant to be interested in stuff." The brunet looked up and met his eyes - they seemed honest. They were so beautiful - not the average boring mud brown eyes, but more like a darkness promising mystery. Oh God, now he was even sounding sappy to himself. What was his life, seriously?

"Thomas!" Minho shouted from behind the counter, interrupting the moment. "Can you help me here, please?"

For a split second, Thomas cursed his friend, but then again, sure, his break was over, anyway, and he had to go back to work. Still...

"See you later, Tommy", Newt said, all casual again, fishing his phone out of his coat pocket (Thomas had already secretly wondered when he would switch to some awesome marine blue winter coat, but apparently his British blood helped him stay warm) and not looking up. Maybe he really didn't feel what Thomas felt when they shared a look. This mutual attraction. Bummer.

"Sure", he murmured, got up, grabbed his mug and went to join Minho behind the counter. He looked over at the blond several times before he left, but Newt never seemed to even glance in his direction.

...

Thomas was working again on the first of November. It was the afternoon shift, but he was still tired and thankful for the seemingly endless supply of free coffee. He hadn't gone out, he was not an excessive fan of costume parties, so the three boys had stuck to their Halloween tradition and watched the Cornetto Trilogy until the early morning hours. Brenda had been out with her girls and joined them for the last part, telling them that they hadn't missed much, anyway. He was working with his colleague Chuck, who was one of his favourite co-works, and so Thomas was perfectly happy, although he couldn't help yawning now and then.

That suddenly changed when the door opened and Teresa and Aris walked in.

It was not that he hated the two of them or that he was still in love with Teresa or still hurt by her betrayal (okay, yes, maybe the last one was true, and the first one kind of, too); he just genuinely didn't want to see them. At all. 

Thomas took a lot of precautions to avoid his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. He never went to the same classes and basically arranged his timetable in a way that would guarantee no Teresa or Aris (or worst of all, both) within thirty feet of him. He had quit his job at a different coffee shop because they went there a lot. He had Minho check the library before he went in. Minho had agreed to that only because Thomas had made a habit of studying in the hallway because he wouldn't risk seeing them.

It wasn't that he was a coward. He just liked to pretend they didn't exist and that nothing had ever happened. Personally, Thomas was a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just went away.

Which was totally impossible just now.

It was hard to say who looked more uncomfortable - Teresa or Aris. Well, Thomas probably still won, because every emotion was always obvious on his face, but Aris did look pretty shocked. Aris. Urgh. The brunet would never get what that skinny-looking kid had that he didn't. Not that he was still thinking about Teresa that way, because he wasn't - he absolutely didn't want her back. But that didn't stop him from being hurt and feeling rejected for someone less awesome than himself.

Teresa was the one who acted first; she started walking towards the counter, and as she approached him, Thomas tried not to take her in, but it was hard. She was pretty, without a doubt. He used to call her beautiful, but that feeling somehow vanished the moment he saw her screw another guy. Still - tall, long dark hair, blue eyes - she was a looker.

"Hey, Tom", she said when she'd reached him. "What a shock to see you here!" she added, sounding fake.

Tom. She used to call him that. Back home, when they first started dating, she'd started calling him that. Why did she still use that nickname? It felt so wrong.

For a second, Thomas contemplated asking Chuck to take their order, but no; his colleague was on break, peacefully reading his book. And the brunet wasn't a coward. He could do it.

"Hi", he answered, deliberately not using her name. It occurred to him that they hadn't talked for almost a year; not since he had closed the door in her face last December the evening he'd found out she'd cheated on him. Well, that actually hadn't been more of a talk, either. "What can I get you?"

"Erm..." she said, reading the menu. Aris had appeared at her side, but he was so unremarkable that Thomas didn't see him immediately. "A regular latte, please", he said in his husky voice, not looking at the brunet.

"Alright." There really wasn't anything more to say while he waited for Teresa to make her decision. It didn't take long; she flashed him a brilliant smile and said "A caramel latte, regular, please. We're gonna drink it here."

Shucking hell. The good times just kept on coming, didn't they.

Thomas named the price, accepted the money and handed Aris his change as if on autopilot. Then he told them to sit down; he'd bring them their coffees, and they complied. He started preparing their beverages, contemplating which illness he could feign to get out of the shop this very minute.

But then the door opened once more, and the day got a lot better.

It was Newt, and he was wearing a royal blue duffle coat that looked amazing with his pale skin and dark eyes. A sight for sore eyes, definitely. And now Thomas could stop wondering what the Brit wore during the winter. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of Newt, and the blond winked at him. Thomas wanted to swoon.

"Tommy", Newt sighed theatrically as he reached the counter. "I am having a rotten day, and one of your cappuccinos would improve it infinitely. I-" The blond then stopped, apparently looking at him more closely. When Thomas looked up at him, his chocolate-coloured eyes were alert. "What's wrong?"

He didn't know why, but Thomas felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to tell Newt about what had happened with Teresa. Of course, he had neither time nor opportunity just then, so he just said as quietly as possible: "That's my ex girlfriend over there, together with the guy she cheated with. They're together now."

The Brit didn't seem to react at first; he looked at his watch, which bewildered Thomas - why would he do that? - but then turned around as if to look at the clock over the entrance door, his arm still raised as if comparing the time, and the brunet got it. He was trying to be subtle about staring at Teresa and Aris. That was indeed kind of cool, he had to give Newt that.

When the blond turned back to Thomas, his eyebrows were raised so high they were actually hidden in his mass of hair. "She chose that guy" - Thomas really liked the way he said 'that guy' - "over you?" And he liked the way he emphasised the 'you' even better - the disbelief was obvious in Newt's voice, and the brunet was flattered. He nodded.

Newt shook his head. "Unbelievable. She doesn't deserve you, mate." He sounded sincere, and the words woke a sleepy butterfly in Thomas' stomach and caused him to clumsily flap his wings once or twice. He didn't blush, but maybe a bit of healthy colour returned to his pale cheeks. "Thanks", he said. "What size of cappuccino do we need?" he then asked. "How rotten is the day?" He smiled at Newt, who smiled back.

"Large, definitely", the blond said. "I have a huge hangover and an essay deadline. So I actually have to dash, but I thought the air would help."

"Did it?"

"Not at all."

Thomas nodded sympathetically. "I'll fix your drink before theirs."

Newt beamed. "That's my Tommy", he said.

Thomas would have lied if he'd said he didn't like the sound of that.

The next few moments were spent in comfortable silence while the brunet first fixed Newt's drink before preparing the ones for Teresa and Aris. From his periphery he noticed people enter and Chuck springing to his feet to serve them. Picking up the two trays, Thomas said goodbye to the blond and grudgingly made his way over to the table where the two of them were seated. He played with the thought of "accidentally" spilling the coffee on Teresa's white coat, but abandoned the idea quickly. He really didn't want to interact more with her than absolutely necessary. 

She apparently didn't agree on that.

"Thanks Tom", she said, grinning at him, as he put down their beverages. Why did she grin so much? It was actually scary. "How have you been? I never see you."

Did she really have the audacity to ask him how he's been? He thought about answering honestly. 

"I've been good - especially last Christmas was amazing, when you smashed my heart into pieces."

"Thanks for asking - I really enjoyed being stalked by some weirdo while still pining over you."

"I'm great - as long as I don't have to see you, because the sight of you literally makes me sick?"

Naw, none of those sounded like he was over her.

"I'm perfect, thanks", Thomas said, putting up an effort to smile and not asking her back as to not further kindle the conversation. He meant to immediately turn away, but she kept talking.

"That's so good to hear! Are you seeing anyone? And how's Minho?" 

The brunet didn't need to glance over at Aris to see that he looked just as gutted as he felt. The last thing he wanted in the world was casual small talk with his ex girlfriend.

"Excuse me."

Thomas turned around, happy for the interruption, and saw that Newt, contrary to what he'd thought, hadn't left yet. He was standing next to him, holding something in his fist.

"What can I do for you, Newt?" he said maybe a bit too eager, but if so, the blond didn't show. He looked at him with these huge dark eyes in a way that made Thomas' insides twist, and smiled.

"I was..." He paused. Was the sassy Brit blushing?! "I was hoping maybe we could go out some time." Newt handed Thomas a napkin - there was a number written on it. "Call me." And with a wink, he turned, his coat swaying behind him, and left. Thomas, Teresa and Aris likewise stared after him. Maybe there was even a bit of jealousy on Teresa's face, but who knew.

Had. That. Just. Really. Happened????

Thomas felt as if he'd just involuntarily participated in the ice bucket challenge. He watched Newt leave, unable to move. After a few seconds, he got a grip, mumbled "I gotta go" and joined Chuck behind the counter, not without shoving the napkin into his back pocket.

The remaining ninety minutes of his shift passed in an absolute blur. Thomas served coffee without knowing what he was doing, glad for the routine he had.

He honestly didn't know how to feel.

Granted, his ex girlfriend had seen a superhot dude ask him out. Thomas should feel happy, smug even. He should be overjoyed that Newt had given him his number.

But.

Sitting on his bed, his legs crossed, later that evening, staring at the napkin, he couldn't help but wonder.

What if Newt had only went along with his desperation.

What if he had given him that napkin to do him a favour, to make up for the way-to-university-incident?

What if the number wasn't Newt's, or not even real? Thomas couldn't have born it if it weren't.

But what if the number was real? What if Newt actually wanted to go out with him? He was always at the coffee shop and seemed to enjoy their conversations. Should Thomas maybe just try and call the number? Right now, even?

No, he decided. Newt had only tried to help him, but he wasn't really interested. An action like that didn't seem to be his style.

With a heavy heart, Thomas put the napkin in a drawer and shut it. He couldn't throw it out just now, and he hated himself for his weakness. But he wanted to keep the illusion that someone like Newt could actually be interested in him up just a little longer.

Then again, there was also cause to be happy. He'd seen Teresa and Aris, and despite being angry, he knew now that he was over her. So that was good, right? Right?

It just didn't feel like that right now. Not while thinking that Newt had given him a fake number out of pity.

Who would have thought mere hours ago that his shift would be so emotionally straining? Sighing, he got up and left his room to look for Gally. He really needed a bit of junk food and Xbox with his best friends right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> it's the middle of the night in Scotland, but technically already Wednesday, so here we are :) I'm so sorry that I can only update every other week, but I hope you enjoyed this new chapter! Do you think Newt was only trying to help Thomas? As always, I'm happy about every kind of respectful feedback, so please talk to me in the comments :)  
> The title is a quote from the Fall Out Boy song "A little less sixteen candles, a little more "touch me"", which I love to death! Go listen to it!! (If you want to.) :)  
> As always,  
> lots of love and read you in two weeks,  
> xx khaleesivero


	6. Damned If I Do Ya...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the night club scene my beta has been excited for ;)

"I don't think that's the best of ideas", Thomas said for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, while folding a freshly washed t-shirt. It was late Saturday morning, which meant laundry time in his book, and Minho was sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed, looking up at him with huge puppy eyes.

"Why noooooot", he whined, just like he had the last times. Honestly, he seemed like an overgrown child at times.

"Because", Thomas said, feeling like an actor repeating his lines over and over again at a rehearsal with a shitty partner, "I don't like that club." He did realise this wasn't maybe the best of arguments, but telling the truth would have been mortifying.

Brenda had arranged for them to go out that night with her and Rachel, and their choice of club had been an obvious one - all the students went to the "Homestead" as it was infamous for its parties. Thomas had no problem with clubs - he even liked to dance, after a beer or two - but he was afraid of running into two certain people there. Well, three actually - he wasn't too keen on seeing Newt again after The Napkin Incident, either. Miraculously, he hadn't showed up at the coffee shop during his shifts that week, and even though the brunet missed the blond more than he cared to admit, it was better that way. He couldn't have coped with the Brit's sassy smile - he immediately would have thought he was mocking him in a "you didn't really think I'd give you my number, you tosser, did you" kind of way. Newt was definitely enough of a jerk to do that, and Thomas had been humiliated enough love-wise for the next decade. Or century, that was probably more like it.

Minho threw his hands up in the air. "Thomas, you used to love this club! You used to love the Saturday night parties there!" He picked up a pair of socks and threw it at Thomas, who ducked.

"Well, I don't anymore!" he protested more firmly than he meant to, shaking out a pair of jeans. "Can't you accept that?"

"No." Minho grabbed one leg of the jeans. "You're going there. Tonight."

"Am not. Let go, Minho!" He tried to pull his item of clothing out of his friend's grip, but it didn't work. "Let go!" he repeated, more weakly - he already knew the Asian guy would bully him into going. But that didn't mean he had to make it easy for him.

"Dude, if you want to avoid Teresa forever, you will have to move to a different state. Or, like, you know, a different continent. So get your shit together because you ARE coming with us." 

Thomas tried again - his grip was made of steel. "I am not coming, Minho, give up."

"No, because you ARE coming", the other guy answered firmly. "You are not avoiding the best club in town for a silly girl that cheated on you almost a year ago. It's ridiculous and immature and, to be even more frank, shucking pathetic. So you are going with us tonight, you are going to the Homestead and you are going to have fun. I was also gonna say "you are gonna take Rachel home" but I don't wanna press my luck." Minho glared at him, and Thomas bowed his head.

"Okay", he said, shrugging. What else was he supposed to do? It wasn't like his friend didn't have a point.

Minho blinked once, twice, three times. "Really?"

Thomas sighed. "Really."

"Alright. That was easier than expected." Minho released the pair of jeans and got up.

"You'll have to get me drunk, though", Thomas said, finally folding up his jeans. Minho grinned over at him and opened the door. "That's no problem", he said, smiling in a way that let the brunet know the bottles of Tequila were already in their fridge, "The girls are coming over at eight."

His friend left the room and Thomas sat down on his bed for a minute to gather his thoughts. It was true, he couldn't avoid every place where he could potentially meet Teresa forever. And their last meeting had gone kind of well. Ish. Alright. The "Homestead" it was for the night.

And as far as Newt was concerned... He was probably more into hipster coffee shops, anyway, so at least that coast was clear. Supposedly.

...

Even though he tried not to think about any possibilities the night might bring except being a complete and utter catastrophe, Thomas couldn't help but feel a teeny tiny bit excited for what the night might bring. He dressed casually but thoughtfully, and applied his favourite aftershave. Who knew - he hadn't been at the Homestead for almost a year, and maybe it would be fun. Maybe.

A last look in the mirror and at his watch told Thomas that a.) he looked good (no sense in denying the obvious - those eyes were pretty soulful, after all) and that b.) it was already past 8, so he was, literally, late to the party. Upon turning off his stereo (Muse had been on pretty loud, granted), he heard voices in the living room - female voices. So the girls were already here.

He grabbed his wallet and keys and left the room, switching off the light. Before he closed the door, Thomas wondered what he would feel like when he'd next enter it. Hopefully good. He really wasn't ready for another disaster just yet.

He found his friends and their guests on the living room couch and the two armchairs going with it - Gally had insisted on buying them for the sake of feeling important and intelligent when sitting in them, and even though Thomas and Minho had initially laughed at the idea, they would now always fight each other for those two seats. The armchairs were now occupied by the girls; Brenda jumped to her feet to hug Thomas, and over her head, he saw Rachel rise as well. The two of them couldn't have been dressed more differently; while Brenda sported a rockabilly-esque polka dot dress (at least he thought that it was one - his knowledge of fashion was fairly limited) in bright red, Rachel wore a simple little black dress that made her look like a young Claudia Schiffer. Yes, she was attractive, he had to admit that while he gave her a reluctant hug. Maybe, after all, he would discover her true, outgoing self tonight. He would try to give her another chance, he resolved, as Brenda pushed the first shot into his hand.

"Let's make tonight a fun one", she said, and they all raised their drinks to that.

...

Four hours later, Thomas wished he had never agreed to any of this, wished he had put down his foot for once and stayed at home. This night was a complete and utter disaster, just like he had predicted. Shivering in the cold air outside the club, he wondered where it'd gone wrong.

It had all started out well. They had played a drinking game, first with beer, but then, at some point, shots had come into it, and apparently, Rachel wasn't really used to drinking all that much. She had thrown up for the first time at nine thirty, with Brenda taking care of her, and hadn't stopped for most of the way to the club, resulting in them being kicked out of the bus halfway to the Homestead. 

Since a drunk Rachel hadn't been able to actually get into the club, either, someone had to stay behind and make sure she was okay, and of course the brunet had been stupid enough to say yes. Freaking alcohol, making him even nicer than he usually was. However, she also didn't want to go home, which was why, now, Thomas was sitting on a bench a few buildings away from the club next her, trying to talk her into going home. At some point during the last five minutes, she had started crying, and, not knowing what to do and feeling like a helpless puppy, he had tried to ignore it, but the tears kept streaming down her face, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

"What's wrong, Rachel? Are you in pain?" he asked, quickly counting her drinks, estimating her body weight and observing her behaviour. No, with the water Brenda had brought from inside the Homestead, she should be fine medically - she was probably just sad that she was missing out on the clubbing.

Sobbing, the girl attempted to shake her head, but stopped halfway through the motion and groaned. "You'll think I'm a total girl now", she rasped, coughing afterwards.

Thomas sighed. "I am not a fan of using that word in a derogatory manner", he said, earning a slow, but stunned side-glance from her. "Huh?" Rachel uttered, but he just shrugged. "Nevermind. I don't think you're lame." Not more than before, that was. Drunk Rachel was more outgoing and talkative. Drunk Rachel was also more touchy-feely and had tried to kiss him between puking. Not that she remembered, probably. But he did. And it had been awkward and horrifying.

"Yes you do", she sobbed, wiping her face and thoroughly smearing her mascara. "And you're right in doing so."

That was the moment for Thomas. Enough was enough. He saw a taxi approach and jumped to his feat. The cab stopped, and the brunet waited until the driver let the window down. "Can you take us to Gordon Street?"

"Noooo", Rachel wailed behind him, but he didn't care; he got her into the cab, told her to pull her shit together for the short ride to his flat and asked the cabdriver to wait. Within minutes, he had her up the stairs, out of her shoes and on the couch, a glass of water and a bucket beside her, and was back inside the cab, thoroughly making sure not to look like a creepy rapist. The brunet planned on enjoying the rest of the night, and that wouldn't happen while babysitting Rachel. Yes, he felt harsh, but he was sick of being the one to pick up the pieces. She was fine - his medical knowledge told him that; all that girl needed was to sleep it off. He, on the other hand, wanted to live a little. Maybe it was the tequila in his system, but something made him want to be daring, for the first time in ages.

And so he went back to the club.

...

As if the night hadn't been exhausting enough, the club was full and Thomas couldn't find Brenda, Minho and Gally right away. He did, however, ran into Teresa on his way back from the men's room. She looked good, wearing the purple dress she used to wear a lot when going out. Thomas' mood immediately dropped even lower.

"Oh, hi, Tom!", she half-shouted over the music, clearly astonished to see him there. "What's up?"

"Not much", he answered, in no mood to talk and trying to squish past her.

"Did you get your girlfriend home okay?"

That made him freeze. The brunet turned back to her, eyebrows raised. "Who says she's my girlfriend?" he answered coolly, in a that's-none-of-your-business kind of way.

The way Teresa folded her arms told him that she had perfectly understood his tone. "She's pretty", she said, her voice a mixture of sweetness and anger. Thomas thought his hearing must have malfunctioned, but he knew it hadn't. How. Why. What. And how. How could she. She had no right.

"You, Teresa Agnes", he said, unable to keep the ice-cold anger from his voice, "are the last person on this planet that I owe anything . The very last. Do you understand?"

Her eyes burned with fury. "Is that what you think of your girlfriend of four years?" she hissed, and despite the noise, he could hear her perfectly.

What the.

"YOU FUCKED ANOTHER GUY!", he shouted, and he didn't care that people turned around to glance at them. Teresa put her hands on her hips as if to make a defying contra, but he held up his hand. "No. I am not having this conversation half-drunk in a club. I am not having this conversation at all. I am done with you. Leave me alone. I-"

He wasn't quite sure what he had planned on saying then, but that didn't matter, because suddenly, out of the blue, there was Newt, walking towards him.

Now that Thomas saw him for the first time without a coat, the world was an entirely new place, filled with unknown beauty. The blond's hair was a bit messy and sweaty from dancing, and his black shirt perfectly emphasized his dark eyes while also clasping to his upper body and arms in all the right places, showing off the fact that he had the perfect amount of muscles. Thomas had just time to close his mouth, make a mental note to check out his butt, and blush while remembering their last encounter, before the Brit reached them. There was a fierce look on his face, and the way he stared Teresa down, even the brunet had respect of him.

"I would appreciate it very much", he growled in his thickest British accent, "if you left my Tommy alone." Turning towards said Tommy, he smiled his famous half-ironic smile - and kissed him. Just like that. Placed his hands on his cheeks and pulled the brunet towards him, and Thomas, in his shock, could only let it happen (not that he didn't want it, obviously).

But.

What. How. Why. What. WHAT?

Thomas regained control over his body a few seconds into the kiss, and when he found himself, he kissed Newt back. It was not a gentle kiss; the blond was demanding and forceful and pushed him against the wall, biting his lip, causing the brunet to release a soft groan. His thoughts were spinning around in his head - was this real? Was he drunk and asleep? What was happening?

When Newt's tongue slipped into his mouth, instinct took over, and all thoughts were banished from his brain, leaving behind a cloud of want and need. The Brit tasted like alcohol, so he was drunk, too, but in a nice way, like some kind of tasty wine. He let his hands glide to the blond's hips, pulling him closer, desperate for some kind of friction against his growing hardness. Newt moaned into the kiss, but drew back. Panting slightly, his dark eyes bore into Thomas'.

"Why didn't you call?"

The last words the brunet would have expected.

"Call?" he asked, uncertain. Then he remembered - the number. "OH! I thought the number was fake!" If Teresa was still there, he didn't realise it - he was in a trance-like state.

"Fake?" Newt looked gob-smacked. "Why for fuck's sake would it be fake?" He seemed honestly shaken.

"I thought..." Thomas started, but the blond interrupted him. "You idiot actually thought I wasn't interested?"

Well, you could say that.

The brunet looked down and nodded. Newt chuckled, and the way he could feel it reverberate in his own chest due to their close proximity was a definite turn-on. "Well, you're wrong", he said, his lips next to Thomas' ear. "And if you ask me, we have two choices now. Either, you're going to dance with me..." And his lips found the brunet's again, more forceful than before, causing Thomas' dick to jump in his pants, "or you're coming home with me right now."

...what was this night? A fucking rollercoaster ride?

Thomas knew he had about 3 seconds to think this through. He didn't feel like clubbing anyway, and NEWT had JUST OFFERED HIM SEX. That was too good to be true. There had to be a catch. He didn't get lucky like that, not without a catastrophe in a different part of his life. He hadn't slept with anyone in months, and Newt was so good-looking and sexy and downright hot. But what if Thomas messed up? What if he wasn't good? What if Newt was the next psycho-stalker to haunt him for months?

But this was NEWT - British, sexy, cheeky, sassy Newt.

So pros: having hot sex with the guy of his (wet) dreams, cons: not knowing whether said guy of (wet) dreams was a psychopath.

He had to say yes.

And so he did.

A diabolic smile spread across his face. "Let's get a cab, then", he purred, and grabbed Thomas' hand, pulling him towards the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! I realize this is not the best thing I ever wrote, but life is so complicated right now with exams, road trips and boy troubles... Honestly, I think I'll base my next fan fiction on my college experiences :D So yeah, I hope you guys still liked it :)  
> I know the cliffhanger is mean, but that's just how I role ;)  
> As always - I'm thankful for any kind of respectful feedback on my way to writing better stories, so if you wanna talk to me in the comments, please do :)  
> Loads of love and I'll update again in two weeks  
> xx
> 
> P.S. The title is a quote from an All Time Low song I dearly love and that reminds me so much of this story... Go check it out :)


	7. ...Damned If I Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy what my lovely beta calls "The Hangover Chapter" :D

Thomas woke up to something - or someone - shifting on the mattress, which was weird, because he always slept alone. Or rather, at the moment he usually did, he hadn't shared a bed with someone in...

Wait.

Moving his head just a tiny bit, he groaned as he felt it pulsate with pain. A clear sign of a severe hangover. Right, there had been drinking last night.

His neck was starting to hurt from his slightly crooked position, and since moving his head was out of the question, he shifted his body. By doing so, Thomas realised two things:

1\. He was lying under satin sheets. He didn't own any satin sheets. He only had the plain cotton ones he'd bought online at Ikea.

2\. He was not only lying under strange sheets. He was also naked.

Shucking hell!

He sat up, too quickly, and, groaning, put his left hand to his head as if he could prevent it from falling off while bracing himself on his other hand. Bright light was flooding the room that he hadn't really gotten a decent look at last night in the darkness. The bed was huge and obviously made of some kind of expensive wood. The satin sheets were a creamy colour, rich and luscious to the skin.

And next to him, to his left, his head propped up on his arm, was Newt.

Thomas couldn't help but stare - even with his disorderly hair and shadows under his dark eyes, Newt was a vision. They'd never been in such close proximity, and now that he could examine his fine cheekbones, his long eyelashes and his full, cherry-red lips more closely, the boy seemed even more attractive. Thomas longed to touch his face, but it would have been weird, so he didn't.

The blond was naked as well, the duvet only just covering his hip. The way he smirked at him and studied him with raised eyebrows made the brunet blush faintly and woke memories of last night.

_"Oh Tommy, you feel so good, so shucking tight, bloody hell!"  
"Newt, I - yes, fuck, right there! Oh my God, I'm gonna -"_

The thought made his dick twitch with excitement. Last night had been amazing.

"Good morning", the brunet said in what he hoped to be a casual tone, but he did glance down onto his crotch to see if he was covered. He might have had sex with that guy, but he was still a bit shy when it came to nudity in daylight.

"Why, good morning", Newt answered, his smirk still in place. "How is your head?"

As if the question had reminded him of his headache, Thomas groaned again. "Could be better", he said, wrinkling his forehead in an effort of pulling himself together.

The blond mock-pouted. "And here I was thinking that I'm the only one who can make you moan that way. But no, tequila poses serious competition."

Thomas' blush deepened when he remembered a certain scene from the previous night.

_"I wanna hear you", Newt whispered into his ear, the warm breath on his neck making the brunet shiver with want and need as he stood there, his back pressed against the inside of Newt's entrance door. "Don't hold back."_

_The blond dropped to his knees and, before Thomas knew it, ripped his trousers open, his mouth already on him. A shiver ran through the brunet's legs, and, in an effort to hold himself upright, grabbed the other guy's hair. Encouraged by that, Newt took more of him into his mouth, and Thomas couldn't help but groan loudly. Nothing had ever felt this good, he was sure of it..._

"Tommy?"

Thomas snapped out of it. Newt was sitting upright now, looking at him in an almost concerned way. It was a good look on him - it made his perfect features softer, more guy-next-door. Cute, definitely. "Are you okay?"

"Sure, sure", the brunet waved his question away. "Just a bit hung-over." No need to let Newt know exactly how much he'd rocked his world.

"Right." The blond nodded curtly, then suddenly got up and walked over to his huge wardrobe. Thomas took the opportunity to stare at his butt while Newt threw on some clothes. It was a very good butt. "I actually already took a shower", he said, turning around while buttoning up a green shirt, and Thomas quickly looked the other way. "I need to be somewhere in half an hour. Music thing."

"Oh." The brunet continued to sit on the bed, feeling weirdly out of place with the luxurious sheets still pooling around his waist, trying not to be disappointed at the fact that there wouldn't be a second round. Or third one. Third one? They did have sex twice, right? Oh damn, he didn't know for sure anymore. What a waste. "Right."

As if he'd picked up the not-so-well-hidden disappointment in Thomas' voice, Newt smiled in an almost un-ironic way. "But you looked so good asleep, I couldn't resist slipping back in."

Thomas blushed for the fourth - was it the fourth? never mind, there was definitely too much blushing, regardless of the actual number - time this morning, not knowing what to say. He looked good asleep? No one had ever told him that before.

Newt rounded the bed, his shirt still only half-buttoned, and pressed a kiss onto the brunet's lip. Thomas kissed him back, and even though it was a rather chaste kiss, the way the blond's lips lingered made his skin tingle. He longed to touch the bare chest, just once, but restrained himself.

Finally, the Brit drew back and messed up his hair in an attempt to make it look more orderly - or maybe messing it up was exactly his goal.

"There's tea and coffee in the kitchen, and also aspirin", he said, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the giant mirror that would actually come in handy when having sex in daylight. Oh stop it, Thomas, and focus, the guy is talking to you!

"Thanks", Thomas said, edging closer to the edge of the bed in search of his boxers, but they were probably in the hallway, and he was still strangely uncomfortable being naked around his guy he didn't really know. Not yet. Hopefully he would, though. Get to know him, that was.

Apparently, Newt was now content with his appearance. He grabbed his wallet and keys from a dresser, but lingered in the doorway. "Do you still have the number I gave you?" he asked, obviously hesitating.

Too embarrassed to speak, Thomas just nodded.

The answering grin was not so much ironic as relieved. "Right. Do remember to call me this time, will you? I'd like to repeat that." And with that, he disappeared, and mere seconds later, the door fell closed.

...

It took Thomas a few minutes to get his bearings before he managed to get up and go look for his clothes. He found most of them in the hallway, as expected, and put them on straight away - he'd take a shower back home. The flat was impressive, definitely far too nice for a student; the living room held a beautiful piano, a huge couch and a massive television, and all the floors were made of massive wood. The kitchen was fancy as well, and even though there were still unpacked boxes in the hallway (Thomas recalled having almost fallen over one the previous night while sucking a mark onto Newt's neck), making the flat disorderly, the brunet got the feeling that Newt came from a rich family.

Not trusting his stomach, he didn't drink coffee but rather helped himself to a big glass of water and two aspirins. Gulping down the water, Thomas found his jacket close to the door and picked it up, feeling the pockets for his phone.

His phone. Oh God. He'd forgot to tell the others about Rachel, about where he went, about everything.

Shuck SHUCK shuuuuuuuck!!!

He fished the device out of his pocket and unlocked the screen. Seven missed calls, two messages on his mobile mailbox, countless texts. He didn't bother with the messages, they were both from late last night, and instead opened his messaging app.

MinhoGallyBrendaBrendaGallyMinhoMinhoMinho. The last one from an hour ago.

_Dude, get back to me, okay. We're seriously worried._

Shuck.

Thomas felt terrible; he should have told them what'd happened, but he seriously didn't think, alcohol and lust clouding his senses and making him forget about the fact that he was supposed to meet his friends in the club.

He typed a quick text, telling Minho he'd be home soon, when he remembered that actually he had no clue where exactly he was. Newt had said at some point that he lived near the coffee shop, though, so he was confident that he would find his way home. Sliding his arms into his jacket, he put the glass into the dishwasher and, after looking for his shoes, he left the flat, but not without casting one last glance back. This was where Newt lived. And if he didn't mess it up too badly, he'd be back. Soon.

...

Thomas found Brenda, Minho and Gally in the kitchen, all of them holding onto mugs full of black coffee as if for dear life, all of them looking like trash. They simultaneously raised their heads as the brunet came in, and Brenda jumped to her feet, startling them all.

"Where were you?" she gasped, closing the space between them and hugging him fiercely. Not knowing what to do, the brunet petted her back awkwardly until she released him, looking up sternly at him. "Well?"

"Erm..." Thomas let his eyes trail over the table - his mug was there, filled with coffee, waiting for him. His friends were the best, seriously. "I stayed the night somewhere else."

"Oh, really." Minho rolled his eyes; he sounded even more tired and hung-over than he looked. "We almost didn't notice. What happened, dude? We didn't find you at the club, so we left around three and found Rachel here, soundly asleep, but not a trace of you, not a word from you. What happened?"

Thomas wiggled out from Brenda's grasp and took his place next to his best friend, grabbing the mug and taking a gulp of coffee, bracing himself. "I sort of ran into Teresa and -"

"DUDE!" Gally exclaimed, his eyes wide with terror. "You did NOT!"

Okay, that came out wrong. Jeez.

"WHOA oh my God, no, what are you thinking of me?" Thomas raised his hand in defence. "Of course I didn't!" Seriously, what was Gally thinking? The brunet would never ever ever get back together with Teresa - not even for a one night stand.

There were three collective sighs of relief from his friends. Four mugs were raised to four mouths in silence.

"But... if you weren't at Teresa's", Brenda began hesitatingly, "where were you?"

Right. No use in lying; he had to tell them sooner or later, anyway. Especially since they were gonna continue sleeping together. Hopefully.

"Well", he started, stirring a bit of sugar into his coffee, "do you remember that British guy from the coffee shop?"

"The hot one?" Brenda asked eagerly just as Minho said "The stupid one?" They glanced at each other in bewilderment. 

"Why hot?" Minho asked suspiciously. Brenda shrugged. "That's just what I heard." She turned her attention back to the brunet. "Ok, so we know who you are talking about. Do continue."

"I don't", Gally said, looking confused.

"Nevermind", Brenda said, waving his statement away. "Let the man talk, Galileo."

Thomas blushed. "Do I really have to spell it out?"

"No!" Gally and Minho said simultaneously while Brenda said "Yes!"

The boys stared at her.

"What?" she demanded. "I think it's cute!" Minho and Gally shared a look that said something like we should take away her e-reader, it's full of gay fan fiction.

"Alright", Thomas relented. "He walked up to me, saved me from Teresa by kissing me in front of her. Then I went home with him. Happy?" He raised an eyebrow at Brenda.

She smiled back sweetly. "Very."

"Thomas, you - you're gay?"

That was a weak voice coming from the door.

The four friends turned to see Rachel stand in the doorframe. She looked like shit, to be quite frank, her makeup smudged across her face and her skin a pale, almost greenish tone. But the look in her blue eyes was a hurt one.

"Oh, hey Rachel", Brenda said into the uncomfortable silence. "How are you feeling? Do you want some coffee?"

The blond girl shook her head. "And here I was thinking - oh my God, I made a complete idiot of myself!"

"Once again", Minho muttered not exactly quietly. Brenda punched his arm and looked at him sternly, but Rachel had obviously heard, because her face took on a defensive, almost arrogant look. Thomas felt bad for her, except not really, because she had caused a lot of trouble the previous night.

"Right", she said, flipping back her hair. "I should get going. See you guys later." The girl turned around and stalked towards the door. 

Brenda jumped to her feet - she seemed to do a lot of jumping this morning. "Oh come on, Ray, don't be like that!" She tried to catch up with her friend, but the door fell into the lock and she was gone. Relief flooded through Thomas - it wasn't like he had been eager to discuss his sexuality with Rachel.

Brenda turned around. "You're impossible, Min!", she chided, her hands on her hips, which was admittedly an impressive sight, despite her size.

"Oh come on!" Gally jumped to Minho's defence. "To be fair, she kind of was annoying last night."

The girl stood there for five seconds, trying to stay serious, but then fell into her chair. "Granted, she really could have, like, drunk less." She looked at Thomas expectantly. "So what, are you going to make breakfast now or what?"

"Who, me?" The brunet was confused. "Why would I make breakfast? I have a massive hangover! You were the ones who were out dancing while I was looking after a puking chick!"

"We are all hung-over", Minho said seriously. "And yes, dancing was kind of awesome. But at least you had hot sex with a Brit last night. And that obliges you to make me cinnamon French toast."

Thomas suppressed a laugh at this ludicrous statement. "How does me having sex with a British guy oblige me to make you French toast?"

Minho shrugged. "Hey, I didn't make the rules."

Now the brunet couldn't suppress his grin anymore. "Alright", he said, getting up, "but I'm not doing the dishes. I really need a shower."

"Gross!" Gally exclaimed, but he was grinning too. "Then I'll better shower right now."

"We might not leave you any food", Minho said, cocking one eyebrow.

While his friends started a playful fight over who had the right to eat the first French toast, Thomas quickly slipped out of the room and into his own bedroom. Kneeling next to his bedside table, he opened the drawer and pulled out a very specific napkin. He punched the number into his phone, saved it and, before courage could leave him, typed a text.

_Let's pretend I didn't text you right when I got home._

The brunet blushed. Was that too flirty, too forward? Ah, never mind. They'd had sex - why wouldn't he be flirty? He pressed send.

"Thomas, come here and make me breakfast!" That was Minho, pretending to have the voice of a three-year-old, and he couldn't help but giggle.

Taking his phone with him, he went back into the kitchen. "How will you ever survive without me?" he said, putting his phone onto the kitchen counter and reached for the fridge to take out some eggs.

"We won't", Brenda said, putting an arm around Minho's waist. "We'll take you with us if we ever decide to move in together and you can cook for us and we'll live happily ever after."

"In your dreams", Thomas muttered and began breaking the eggshells against a bowl he'd taken out of a cupboard. His phone vibrated; he was sure it wasn't Newt, Newt was too cool to text back immediately. Still - he really wanted to check.

"Set the table, will you, you nonviable creatures!" he grunted, and when they complied (complainingly), he quickly snatched up his phone and checked.

It was Newt.

_I guess I'm free tomorrow night, then ;)_

Newt had immediately proposed another... Get-together.

Mind. Blown.

Thomas pretended he wasn't excited, but his hands were actually shaking and his heart was drumming in his chest. He set the screen saver, not wanting to text back something silly in his excitement, and continued to make breakfast, whistling along to the radio and pretending not to see the looks his friends gave him and each other.

So what if they were making fun of him? He'd slept with a sex god last night.

And he was in for another round - and hopefully more. Much more. Like a house and two kids.

Ok, that was maybe a bit much. For now, a second round would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you so much for reading the latest chapter :) Uni is crazy at the moment, but I did my best to finish this in time and I hope you're not disappointed :)  
> Yes, I know what many of you might be thinking - where is my super hot sex scene??? Well, trust me when I say that there will be plenty of Naked!Newt in chapters to come, so this is just a tiny warmup ;)  
> As always, I appreciate all your feedback, so please talk to me in the comments :)  
> The title is again an All Time Low quote and I just love it, it captures their chemistry so perfectly :D  
> Loads of love and read you soon ;)  
> xxx khaleesivero


	8. Last Night's Clothes, Tomorrow's Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some smut ;)

"If I smoked", Newt said in a husky voice that gave away the fact that he was in fact a _very_ vocal person in bed (which Thomas already knew because he had been there, obviously), "I'd probably need a cigarette now." The blond turned over to grab a sip of water from the bottle on the nightstand, only to roll back to face the brunet again afterwards, grinning devilishly.

Thomas grinned, too. "That good?"

Newt raised his eyebrows. "Don't flatter yourself, Tommy. I did at least half the work."

"Sure." The brunet couldn't help but keep grinning despite trying to keep a straight face. Which was impossible after great gay sex. That bad pun in his head made him grin even more.

Thomas had hoped for a second round. According to his count, this was round eight, and it was barely a week after their first hook-up. Given the fact that both Newt and he were supposedly very busy, they were excellent at making space in their daily schedule for each other. Right now, it was late afternoon, and Thomas was supposed to be studying for an anatomy test taking place the following week, but he'd figured the 15-minute walk to Newt's and the hour he'd spend there would pose an excellent study break. And the Brit had agreed. Plus, as he'd put it - what they were doing was also some kind of practical revision of the male anatomy.

The brunet studied the young man next to him. Newt's hair was an absolute mess, sweaty and resembling a bird's nest, not the carefully tousled hairdo he normally sported, and Thomas' fingers were itching to sweep a rogue strand from his forehead, but Newt wasn't a cuddler, and he probably wouldn't appreciate the gesture.

There weren't a lot of things that Thomas knew about Newt - most of them, like that he didn't appreciate cuddling, drank his coffee without sugar or only wore Levi's jeans, he'd picked up simply by watching him. The Brit was not very open about himself, which was a shame - the brunet would have loved to get to know him better, but he had to be very careful about it - Newt didn't enjoy being questioned. He probably was one of those people who expressed themselves through their art, Thomas figured. Not that he'd know; Newt had never played the piano for him or let him read any of his texts - too personal, probably. However, the blond did enjoy sex, and when he was in a good mood, like he was now, he could be downright chatty. Thomas decided to try another expedition into the mind of his... Erm... Shuck-buddy.

"Newt?" he said tentatively. The other boy had his eyes closed and his full lips curled in a half-smile.

"Mhm?"

"How long have you been living in the US?"

Newt blinked a few times before deciding to open his eyes fully. "Slightly more than two years now", he said in a rather neutral tone.

That was good, wasn't it? He didn't sound annoyed or anything. Thomas decided to ask one.

"And you still haven't lost your accent?"

The blond chuckled, his gaze trailing upwards. "I don't think I ever will, mate. Once a London boy, always a London boy."

"London!" Thomas leaned onto his elbow, cupping his face with the palm of his hand. "Really? How is it there?"

Newt was still looking up at the ceiling, but he was smiling a very genuine smile now. "It's bloody fantastic, to be honest. Well, the cultural scene is. It's also very hectic. But it's a great place to be and to grow up in. Very vibrant and alive."

The brunet sighed. That sounded awesome. "God, I wish I could go!"

The blond looked over at him and smiled. "You should, Tommy. You'd like it." Thomas couldn't help but smile as well - it was contagious. Newt's love for his home was adorable. But then again, it still didn't explain why he'd left the UK behind. That was downright next-question-material.

"Why are you not studying there, then?" The moment Thomas said it he knew it was the wrong thing to ask. Newt tensed - barely visibly, but he did.

"You know", he said ( _No,_ Thomas thought, _or I wouldn't be asking_ ), his voice the lazy drawl he had used when they'd first met, "Change is a good thing. I wanted to see something else."

"And that's why you came to the US?" Thomas asked in mock-astonishment. "Bad choice, dude. The food is equally bad here and the language is the same, except we sound less posh."

It was working - Newt was chuckling, even though his body wasn't as completely relaxed as it had been before. "True", he said, "but I figured my French needed some improvement before I could move to La Reunion."

"Again - bad choice."

Newt grinned. "Well, in my defence - I do know how to choose my fuckbuddies." He crawled over to Thomas for a sexy, lingering kiss that made the brunet's body burn with desire.

"Is that what I am?" Thomas murmured, playfully biting Newt's lower lip and eliciting a groan from the blond, "Your fuckbuddy?" When the Brit giggled, the brunet continued. "Don't you think I know you a bit too little to call you my buddy?"

Newt looked taken aback and leaned away slightly to look at the other guy. "What do you mean?" he asked, complete bewilderment obvious in every single of his handsome features. Thomas would have laughed if his heart hadn't been drumming against his ribcage with something very close to fear.

"I don't know", he said, aiming for a casual tone but probably doing a horrendous job. "We could go out for dinner some time or -"

"Whoa." Newt held up both hands as if to physically stop Thomas from speaking. "Like a date?"

Thomas felt almost hopeful at the utterance of the word "date". He smiled half a smile. "Kinda, yeah."

"I don't do dates." All his hopes were crushed by the blond's decided answer and accompanying sober facial expression. "And if that's what you want, I'm definitely the wrong guy for you."

The brunet tried not to let it show on his face how much these words actually hurt.

_No,_ Thomas wanted to say. _That's not true. You only think you don't like dates. You just haven't dated me yet. I make amazing French toast and will watch silly British comedies with you. I will give you your space and still be there whenever you need me. I will hug you on bad days and good days alike. Just give me a chance. Please._

But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he said: "No, that's cool. Just asking. Good thing we clarified that."

...

Thomas' friends (or "The Three Musketeers", as Brenda called them ever since watching the Orlando Bloom version of the classic, claiming the role of D'Artagnan for herself because of her celebrity crush on Logan Lerman) were thrilled that he was back to what they called "normal" - too busy to sulk, sleeping less while at the same time whistling and voluntarily cooking for them.

Despite the fact that he probably hadn't studied enough for his anatomy test (or just some very particular body parts too often, he thought grinning), the brunet resolved on surprising his friends with a small dinner. Since Gally and Minho were taking the same test, they were busy studying, too, and he knew for a fact that Brenda would spend the next hours or maybe even the whole night finishing a project for class. No time for cooking therefore, and as a future doctor he couldn't just let them eat frozen pizza again. Super food mode - on.

He found his Three Musketeers in the exact position he had anticipated - Gally and Minho were on the couch, both with their huge books on their laps, and Brenda was lying on the floor, her laptop and a pile of sheets spread out around her. Thomas leaned against the doorframe.

"Hey guys!"

No reaction.

"I'm back!"

Brenda made "Hmpf".

Time for his secret weapon. "Dinner in 30!"

Three heads shooting up. Three times a tired but weirdly eager "Thanks, Thomas". Three heads returning to their work.

Grinning and shaking his own head, the brunet carried the tote bag full of groceries to the kitchen. Listening to the radio, he sliced up veggies, grilled pumpkin and haloumi cheese and created a huge plate of the salad for each of them. 

Precisely half an hour later Thomas called his friends to dinner, and even he was perplexed at how quickly they were gathered around the kitchen table. Too tired to say much, he earned another round of "Thanks, Thomas" and "That looks amazing" before they dug in. It was silent for two minutes. Then -

"I can practically feel my brain waking up", Gally said, his mouth full of spinach, but that didn't stop him from smiling widely.

"Same", Minho said, "And did you know the cerebrum is the largest part of the brain and makes up 85% of its total weight, which is normally around 3 lbs?"

"Would you shut up?" Gally munched, visibly appalled "I'm trying to eat here!"

While the two boys continued to fight playfully, Thomas' gaze fell on Brenda. She was watching him, her eyes alert. "What?" he asked, feeling slightly self-conscious under her investigating gaze.

At the sight of his alarmed expression, Brenda's eased into a smile. "You should bring him along some time", she said, looking down at her plate and up at Thomas again. "He must be a good guy if he makes you cook like that."

"Don't you dare start about the hand, you bastard, you know I haven't revised it yet!" Gally yelled on his other side while Minho grinned.

The brunet shrugged. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" The girl's confusion mirrored exactly what he had felt earlier that day when talking to Newt.

Shrugging again, Thomas said, "He doesn't do dates. It's casual sex or nothing at all."

"Huh." Brenda pushed a piece of pumpkin around on her plate. "And nothing at all is not really your preferred option, is it."

It wasn't a question - once again his friend could see through him perfectly. "Nope."

The girl looked at him for a few silent seconds. "Just be careful", she said then. "I don't think you're ready for another heartbreak."

The brunet looked over at Minho, who waved his hand in front of Gally's face, explaining all the bones in his fingers and giggling like crazy while Gally tried to swat it away. It was amazing to see how a dinner break made them come alive again.

"No", Thomas said. "No, I'm definitely not ready for that."

He'd have to talk to Newt again. And soon.

...

A few days later, after a better-than-expected anatomy test, Newt popped into the coffee shop at the very end of Thomas' afternoon shift and invited him to come by later, obviously not without getting his obligatory cappuccino. He didn't wait for the brunet, though - apparently there was some paper he had to hand in last-minute or so, and that's why the blond gave him a key. 

"Spare one", Newt said nonchalantly, as if this wasn't the biggest thing that had happened in their (what Thomas would like to think of as a and what the blond refused to call a) relationship yet. "You can give it back later. Just let yourself in."

Thomas tried to hide his excitement by preparing the other guy's coffee.

After his shift had ended, he set off to walk the by now familiar way to Newt's apartment building. He took the steps up to the second floor and let himself into the flat. Everything was dark, but Thomas turned on the lights in the hallway and, after taking off his shoes and jacket, the ones in the living room.

The piano was open, and there were music sheets on it. It was an exceptionally beautiful and surely highly expensive instrument, consisting of dark lacquered wood that might have been walnut. The brunet had been playing for several years as a child, but it had been months since he'd touched a piano. He tentatively let his hands slide over the wood before making a decision and sitting down on the stool in front of it.

Even without sheets, the old Yiruma piece he had always loved so much came to him without hesitation, as if his fingers were remembering the melody, not his brain. He closed his eyes, swayed to the music and felt the well-known euphoria of creating something as his fingers danced across the keys.

After he had finished the first piece, the brunet played a second one, and then a third one, losing himself in the music, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Until -

"I never knew you played." The whisper in his ear gave Thomas almost a heart attack, making him jump in his seat. Before he could turn around in his seat, he felt his earlobe caught in between teeth, which made him gasp.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me", the brunet answered in a shaky voice as he felt Newt's arms slide over his collarbones and down his chest. He didn't know why he said it - he was just thrilled to have surprised the Brit with secret skills that didn't belong in the bedroom or a coffee shop. And he was sure that Newt would have fun discovering them, if he just tried.

"I bet there are", the blond purred, his lips moving from Thomas' jawline down his throat. Even though the brunet didn't want to be distracted, he kinda was.

"So..." He started, trying not to shudder or moan at the feather-light touch of Newt's lips, "If you just let me cook you dinner some time..." He stopped abruptly when the blond's hands slid down to his hips, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Newt's lips were back on his ear instantly.

"You know", the Brit whispered, his hot breath tickling Thomas' skin in a way that gave him goose bumps, "I really appreciate your dedication, but what I'd appreciate even more right now is if you were to bend me over this beautiful piano and fuck me till I'm a moaning mess."

_What an excellent idea._

Thomas was vaguely aware of the fact that Newt was distracting him from his attempts to talk in earnest once more, but frankly, he didn't give a damn in this very moment. Also, fucking the blond till he was a moaning mess would be a decent way to get rid of his frustration. He was on his feet in a split second and grabbed the Brit by the waist, turning him so they crashed against the piano. If Newt minded his instrument being treated harshly, the way he bit Thomas' lower lip didn't lead it on.

Since the brunet was already wearing less than the blond, he made to change that fact by tearing off Newt's long-sleeved shirt before crashing their lips together once more. The blond moaned into the kiss, and as a result, Thomas' kisses got hungrier until he was practically attacking Newt's mouth. Simultaneously, he reached for the blond's belt, trying to tear it open while keeping on kissing. This didn't work out too well; after about five or six tries, Newt broke the kiss, laughing, and undid his trousers himself and, since he was already at it, Thomas' as well. Then, with a sexy smile, half seduction, half humour, he kissed the brunet once more.

The short humorous episode was forgotten at the touch of their tongues; Thomas moaned, let his hands slide down the blond's back and tugged at his pants, shoving them down. Newt was not known to like foreplay; he preferred to get down to business right away, and judging from the bulge in Thomas' underwear, he was happy to oblige. He slid his hands down further to cup the other boy's ass, eliciting a groan. Encouraged by that, he grabbed the cheeks, pulling them apart just so he could reach the hole perfectly with the tip of his index finger. Surprisingly, he found it wet and stretched.

"You couldn't wait, could you?" Thomas asked, biting Newt's neck, "You couldn't wait to feel me inside you?"

The blond moaned his approval. "Just bloody take me, Tommy!"

"Oh, should I?" the brunet answered in mock-hesitation. Newt wasn't the only one who could be a tease, even though his own cock was so hard by now it was almost painful. "You're so pushy, Newt. Maybe I should just finger you a bit more. Show you that this is nothing you're supposed to do by yourself. Show you that this is my job, that I can do it best."

"Please, Tommy!" Newt's voice was a mere breath; obviously, Thomas' words turned him on. "Please!"

Okay so now this was SERIOUSLY hot. The brunet had to bite his lip in between licking the love bites he was creating on the Brit's neck to keep himself from coming right then and there.

"I like it when you beg", he whispered into Newt's ear, making him shiver. "And since you asked so nicely, you'll get what you want now."

Turning the blond around, he pressed him against the piano with his own body weight while grabbing a condom from his jeans pocket. Thomas quickly rolled it over his blushing, leaking dick and, without further ado, lined himself up and plunged into Newt's tight heat.

The blond cried out in pleasure at the rough treatment while the brunet had to concentrate extremely hard on not-coming. Newt was extremely tight despite having prepared himself for this, and it felt nothing short of amazing. After a few tentative thrusts, he grabbed Newt's hands in his own and put them onto the piano for support. Once he was sure he wasn't gonna push either Newt or the piano in any unexpected direction by his movements, he began thrusting in earnest, his head down, leaning against the other guy's, who had thrown his head back with a scream.

"Oh Newt", Thomas said, the short words stressing the staccato movements of his hips, "don't you know better than to deprive yourself of the amazing foreplay I could have given you? I might have sucked that beautiful cock of yours... Eaten you out... But this way, you're just getting a quick fuck."

"This... Is... Pretty good if... You ask me", Newt moaned breathlessly in between thrusts. "Harder, Tommy, harder!"

The words made Thomas shudder, and he abandoned all care, uncontrolledly pounding into the blond. Newt's loud moans turned into screams, and then the brunet felt him tense and shudder as his orgasm built up. He tried to hold back, but when the blond came with a moan that was downright obscene, he couldn't control himself any more and came as well, biting Newt's shoulder hard.

When Thomas found his bearings again, the blond's head was leaned against the piano, and he was breathing heavily. Sweat covered his back as well as the brunet's chest where they had been pressed together.

"You know", Newt said, sounding weak for the first time in the weeks they'd known each other, "you really can't tell me that you don't like it like that."

And no. Despite the fact that he wasn't quite happy with their situation, Thomas really couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late, folks, but Christmas is stressful, and flying back from the UK was a nightmare! To console you, the chapter is slightly longer - and smutty :D  
> I hope you enjoy it, and I would love to talk to you in the comments!  
> The song is a reference to the Fall Out Boy song "Uma Thurman", which I love dearly :)  
> I wish all of you very happy and peaceful holidays, wherever you are on this beautiful planet!  
> Loads of love xx


	9. I Roll And I Roll 'Til I Change My Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Newt doesn't text back, Thomas can't shake the feeling that something is wrong and goes on to investigate...

Even though their last encounter had been a very passionate one, Thomas didn't see Newt for a few days. The blond didn't text him, and the brunet actually forgot about him for periods of time that stretched up to several hours; reading week was upon him, and apart from planning his essay and reading up on medical ethics (he had of course chosen his favourite topic for his term paper), he and Minho also had to cover for Chuck at the coffee shop, as the curly-haired boy was in bed with the flu. 

With all the stress going on, Thomas had (maybe not better, but definitely) other things to do than worry about his so-called (or rather, he called it that) relationship with Newt. However, on Thursday night, when he finally typed the last word for his essay due the next day at noon, the euphoric smile still on his lips, his thoughts fell on the blond. He hadn't seen the Brit since Monday, when he had picked up a large cappuccino at the coffee shop. Come to think of it, he also hadn't heard from the other guy since then. Weird. Thomas was fairly certain that he there hadn't been a three-day time span in which he hadn't heard of him ever since the night at the Homestead.

Grabbing his phone, he typed a quick text, just to shake the uneasy feeling that had gripped him.

_Hey Newt, what's up? Any plans for the weekend? ;)_

Since Thomas would be free of his paper as of the following day and had only one exam to revise for before Christmas, he could easily, gladly even, spare the time for the occasional hook-up.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, the brunet also pocketed his uneasiness with it. Newt was probably just as busy as he was, or only being the cool, untouchable guy he was. He would be in touch sooner or later.

Glancing at his watch and seeing that it wasn't even dinnertime yet, Thomas decided to go for a quick run. It was already dark outside, but the drizzly late-November rain had ceased some time ago and after sitting for so many hours, it would feel good to stretch his limbs and sweat a bit. He quickly changed into his running clothes and asked Minho if he wanted to join, which he didn't, so the brunet grabbed his iPod, selected his running playlist, tied his shoelaces and left the flat, grabbing his phone and keys on the way out.

The cold air felt amazing on Thomas' face as he set a quick pace and decided to run along the river that cut through his neighbourhood; the way the dark water reflected the already shining Christmas lights was almost magical, and the upbeat Avicii song in his ears sped his strides up. He reached his usual turning point more quickly than usual, and, thrilled by his success, decided to take a detour.

He hadn't planned on running through Newt's street, not really, but he found himself passing by his house. Glancing up, he saw that a light was on. So Newt _was_ home. Thomas didn't know why that bothered him so much. The blond could easily just be writing a term paper or practicing a new, extremely difficult piano piece. It was totally okay that he hadn't been in touch. Christ, he might even have another boy (or girl) over. The thought pained the brunet, but still. For some reason, he wasn't entirely sure that Newt was okay. The Brit had been eager to see him, crazy about getting him into bed. Why wouldn't he be in touch?

Thomas shook off the thought and sped home. Maybe, when he'd check his phone after showering, Newt would have texted.

...

Newt didn't text. He hadn't texted when the brunet came out of the shower, he also hadn't texted when Thomas checked his phone in between frying omelettes for dinner, and Newt hadn't texted when he finished proof-reading his essay around eleven that night. The brunet sent him a series of emoji and, as he still hadn't received an answer when going to bed an hour later, resolved to call if he hadn't answered by noon the next day.

...

Thomas woke up to a text from Chuck telling him that he was perfectly healthy again and that he would love to make it up to both him and Minho by buying them dinner some time next week. But no message from Newt. Nothing. Wondering, the brunet busied himself by uploading his essay and writing a study plan for his histopathology exam (no, no explanation - look it up if you want to know what that is), sorting his notes and marking all the relevant book chapters before making himself a brunch-ish breakfast of French toast and muesli.

Noon came and went, but he received no answer. Thomas was sitting on his bed, eating his meal, and listened to the silence of his flat as if it could provide an answer regarding what he should do. Should he call Newt? They'd never spoken on the phone before, and it would definitely be weird. Also, wouldn't it seem as if he was controlling the Brit? _Hey Newt, I saw that there was light on in your flat last night and I was just wondering why you hadn't texted in half a day..._ Yes, brilliant idea, Mister Edison. Christ on a bike, with a line like that, Newt would most likely have a restraining order issued, and honestly, who could blame him? No, that wasn't the way to go.

After pondering and eating some more, the brunet had an idea. Couldn't he just pretend he'd forgot something at Newt's? A scarf or his headphones or something? What with their way of greeting each other by throwing their clothes in every direction, it wasn't unlikely that he'd lose or forget something at the blond's place.

Yes. That could work. He would just walk over to Newt's and ask if he had left his blue scarf. Come to think of it, Thomas actually really had no clue where his blue scarf was. Maybe it really _was_ at Newt's. So it wasn't even a lie! Not really, anyway.

He checked his outfit. Jeans, hoodie. Casual. Perfect, that'd do.

Thomas grabbed his shoes and jacket and left the flat a mere minute later. It was a bit drizzly outside, so he pulled up his hood and speed-walked the way over to Newt's.

Pressing the bell button downstairs didn't elicit any reaction, so the brunet reached for his pocket - he'd brought Newt's key, just in case. He let himself into the house and walked up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Thomas then rang the bell at the entrance door. Nothing moved. He rang again. He'd seen light from downstairs, so someone had to be home.

Something was wrong here. Thomas felt it.

There. A noise. It sounded like a cough. "Newt?" the brunet asked, knocking at the door. "Are you there?"

More coughing. Without thinking twice about it, Thomas unlocked the door and entered the flat.

He found Newt on the living room couch, looking like absolute crap. The blond's cough sounded terrible, his face was flushed from fever, he was shivering under a thin blanket, and from the look of it, he was barely conscious.

"Newt!" Thomas was by his side in an instant, feeling his forehead; the other boy was practically burning up. "How long have you been like that?"

The Brit was so feverish he couldn't answer the question, or maybe he couldn't even process it; he just looked at Thomas, smiling. "Oh Tommy, it's nice to see you", he sighed before closing his eyes. 

Right. Doctor mode: on.

The brunet jumped to his feet and made for the bathroom. He found cold meds in the cupboard and got a glass of water from the kitchen. Back in the living room, he forced both down Newt's throat, which wasn't exactly easy, as he was already half asleep. Carrying him to his bed was no option, but luckily the couch was a sofa-sleeper, and Thomas managed to enlarge it to bed-size without having to move his patient. He got all blankets and cushions from the bedroom and tucked the blond in, who coughed a bit, but didn't wake.

Right. It would take a bit for the meds to kick in - but there were enough things to do.

Surveying the kitchen, Thomas discovered that Newt was completely out of groceries - tea didn't count - so he grabbed his jacket from where he'd dropped it on the hallway floor and left the flat once more. He took a quick trip to the drugstore and a more extensive one to a close-by grocery store, getting all the ingredients for chicken broth plus fresh fruit and vegetables. Newt would need the vitamins to get back his strength.

Back at the flat, Thomas put away all the food and checked on his patient. Newt was still fast asleep and feverish, and beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. The shivering had stopped. The brunet sighed with relief. That was a good sign.

To busy himself, he got started on the broth and made himself familiar with the flat; Newt would probably need a change of bed sheets later, or fresh clothes. Thomas then found a book on the blond's shelf that he had planned on reading for quite some time, so he settled into the arm chair next to his patient with a cup of tea and started reading, checking Newt's forehead every half hour.

The blond slept for more than three hours, and the sky outside had turned the orange shade of dusk before Newt groaned and opened his eyes for the first time. They were not that feverish anymore; apparently his temperature had dropped.

Thomas put down his book and quickly went over to sit on the couch beside his patient. "Hey", he said calmly, "how are you feeling?"

"Tommy?" Newt looked confused. "What are you doing here?" It was obvious that he didn't remember the brunet's arrival.

"Just looking after you a bit. You let me in, remember?" Okay, that was a lie. Not only technically, but definitely. But then again... Who would it hurt? If he admitted to letting himself in, Newt might kick him out again, and he definitely needed to be taken care of.

"No, I don't remember", the blond admitted, shaking his head slightly. "I think I had a bit of a fever." He made to sit up, but Thomas had none of it.

"A bit is a huge understatement", the brunet said, pushing Newt back down as gently as humanly possible and realising his clothes were wet with sweat. "You're quite ill."

"But I need to-" Newt started to protest weakly, interrupting himself by coughing terribly.

"No way, whatever it is", Thomas said, reaching out to the side table for a glass of water and the cough syrup he'd bought at the drugstore. "You need to rest. Take that."

Without protesting, but with a nasty look on his face, the blond gulped down a spoonful of the cough syrup and downed the glass of water right afterwards. After all this sweating, he obviously needed to rehydrate. Thomas decided to take his temperature again - a thing Newt needed to be talked into. It was still at 101, but lower than before, which was promising.

"I need a shower", the blond insisted after Thomas had told him that he was getting better. "I feel bloody disgusting."

Even though the brunet wasn't too happy about that, he agreed under the condition that Newt wouldn't lock the door. Since he was still weak, the British guy couldn't really fight with Thomas, but he was perfectly capable of muttering insults under his breath as he shuffled towards the bathroom where the brunet, in clever anticipation, had already prepared clean pyjamas and hidden the key.

While Newt was in the bathroom, Thomas changed the bed-sheets and heated a bowl of broth, and when the blond came back ten minutes later, exhaustion obvious on his face, his eyes grew wide.

"You cooked for me, Tommy?" he asked as he let himself fall onto the couch, dragging the freshly dressed blanket over himself. "Why are you doing this?"

As Newt looked up at him, face pale, dark eyes huge, he looked so fragile and small that Thomas had to restrain himself from hugging him. "Because you need someone to look after you, and I don't mind doing it. Future doctor, remember?"

Newt's expression was still unsure and a bit suspicious, but after a few heartbeats, he managed a tiny smile. "The soup smells delicious."

"Told you I could cook." The words escaped Thomas' mouth before he could think about them twice. _Ouch._

The blond looked up from his soup and studied his face some more. "You did." And without any further comment, he started to eat.

...

Newt had two bowls of broth, an orange ("You bought groceries? Who are you, my mum?" the blond tried to be grumpy, but gratitude was obvious on his face) and another pill against his fever before falling asleep again. It was already six pm and Thomas didn't quite know what to do. That was, obviously he wouldn't go home, Newt couldn't be left alone, but he was afraid of outstaying his welcome. This time the brunet didn't make the mistake of not telling his friends where he was; Minho had offered to help, but since the blond was asleep, there wasn't anything to do. To keep himself busy, he washed and dried the bed-sheets and downloaded power point presentations relevant for his exam onto his phone so he could at least study a bit. Hours passed like that, and Thomas was just starting to yawn when Newt woke again.

"You're still here", the voice from the sofa said, half disbelieving, half happy. The brunet's heart jumped when he looked over at Newt and saw those huge dark eyes just above the blanket. He looked adorable.

Not that he'd tell him. No way.

"Course I am", Thomas said and reached for the thermometer. The fever had gone down again, and the way the blond managed to pull himself up all alone showed him that the broth had helped strengthening him a bit. "You're doing okay", the brunet concluded, "but you should still rest."

"I don't want to sleep", Newt protested, sounding like a fiveyearold, which made the other guy smile. "Can't we watch a film or something?"

_We._ Thomas liked the sound of that. A lot. He nodded. "As long as you're staying under those blankets, I can put on a movie."

While Newt went to the bathroom, Thomas picked up two cups of tea for them and a banana for his patient before browsing through the shelf of DVDs (the Brit was much too old school to have a Netflix or AmazonPrime account). It included quite a lot of European movies, most of them British, and many of those unknown to the brunet (except the Cornetto Trilogy, which he loved dearly). When Newt returned, he asked him for a favourite.

"Depends", the blond said, "what do you like?"

Thomas realised in that moment that it was probably the first time that Newt had asked him for information about himself in a non-flirting context. _Finally._

He thought for a bit. "I like not knowing how a movie's gonna end ten minutes into watching it."

Newt nodded, approval obvious on his face. "Good answer." He stepped next to Thomas, joining him at the shelf, and the brunet had to restrain himself from putting his hand on the small of his back to steady the boy. He would have loved to.

"I don't know about you", Newt started.

"But you're feeling twenty-two?" Thomas interrupted jokingly.

The blond rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress a grin. "Not for another three months, thank you very much." He elbowed the brunet weakly. "I could do with some action", he then said and pulled a DVD from the shelf.

A few moments later, when the disk was in the player, Newt settled on the couch and, hesitatingly, patted the space next to him. "Care to join me, or do you want to stay clear of my bacteria?" He looked insecure, and Thomas would have loved to cuddle him.

"Actually, you've got a virus", he answered and sat down next to Newt, slipping his feet into the toasty heat of his patient's blanket fortress.

The action movie, "Rock'n'Rolla", was pretty cool, even though Thomas struggled with the accent from time to time, but Newt proved an experienced interpreter, pointing out all the typical London landmarks and places he'd liked to frequent. It was perfect; Thomas didn't mind talking during movies as long as it was relevant, and the blond seemed to wordlessly understand that. They laughed together at the right moments, and the brunet felt genuinely happy.

"What church is that?" Thomas asked at some point.

"That, mate, is St Paul's Cathedral", Newt answered, "it's THE cathedral of London, since Westminster Abbey is technically not _in_ the city of London."

"What?" The brunet was confused. "Westminster is just a few miles in the other direction, you said that, like, five minutes ago!"

"I know." Smugness ensued. "But London is actually made up of several cities."

Thomas shook his head. "You crazy Europeans", he said, mock-shocked.

The blond flashed him a smile. "Oh come on, you love us."

There was actually nothing he could have said in protest, so he just elbowed his patient, who complained about this medical mistreatment. 

As the movie progressed, he could feel Newt get tired right next to him. An hour of watching his witty comment stopped, and a few moments later, Thomas felt the blond's head fall against his own shoulder.

Turning his head very slowly so he wouldn't wake him, he glanced over at his patient. Newt's mouth was slightly opened, and despite how exhausted he looked, he almost seemed to smile. His hair, washed only hours before, looked like a bird's nest, and his breath smelled like cough syrup.

And Thomas realised that he wanted this. All of it. Taking care of Newt when he was ill, just like he had enjoyed walking home with him when he was dressed to the nines. Slumping next to him on the couch, just like he wanted to ravish him in the bedroom. The Newt that provided him with historical knowledge, just like the one who out sassed him twenty times a day.

He wanted the whole package.

And when Thomas looked over at a feverish Newt that Friday night on the first weekend of December, he didn't know how he'd accomplish all that; he didn't know how to get the British boy out of his shell, how to talk him into giving up his stupid no-dating rule, how to convince him that they could be perfect together, that they _were_ perfect together. No, he had absolutely no clue.

Thomas only knew one thing.

He was in love with Newt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, Guys! :D  
> Thanks so much for reading this chapter! I hope you like it - a lot of you were upset by Newt's behavior in the last chapter, so I hope this'll be more to your taste :)  
> As always, I'm thankful for any respectful feedback and I will see you soon!  
> Loads of love xx
> 
> P.S. The title is a line from my fave 1D song "Fireproof" - kudos to my beta for helping me pick it <3


	10. Follow The Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sick Chapter number 2 - Newt seems changed...

Thomas woke from his back aching. He found himself, quite disoriented, curled up in a large chair in a strange living room, but after two seconds, he knew exactly what was up. Newt was ill, and he was taking care of him.

The brunet tried to keep his yawns down; he was extremely tired. Newt's fever had peaked during the night before it had again fallen; judging from what his forehead felt like today, it might even be totally gone. However, Thomas had been up for more than an hour at three in the morning, doing everything he could to bring the temperature down. It seemed like his grandma's method of wrapping the patient's feet in cold cloths had done the trick - the brunet would have to mention this in his next phone call home.

Thomas shuffled to the kitchen in a very zombie-like manner, made himself some black tea (Newt, that weirdo, didn't even _own_ a coffee maker, like, seriously, what the shuck) and glanced at his phone for the time (Newt's kitchen didn't feature a clock, either, apart from the one on his oven claiming it was 2 am). A few minutes to nine. It had only been six hours ago that Newt's feverish muttering had woken him, but it seemed like days ago, and the brunet felt like going back to the chair and taking another nap. However, his patient would need a decent breakfast soon, and since he was a show-off, Thomas got started on fruit salad and cinnamon French toast.

Half an hour later, he balanced two plates and two bowls into the living room, placing them on the table. Apparently, Newt was still fast asleep. Or not; the brunet left once more to get the tea cups, and when he returned, the blond had one eye open.

"Am I dead?" he asked, his voice muffled from the blanket that hid everything but his eyes. He looked so cute it almost hurt.

Thomas moved over to feel Newt's forehead. "I'd say you're pretty much alive and also almost fever-free. Do you feel bad?" He couldn't keep the anxiety out of his voice, even though he tried.

The blond shook his head and freed his mouth from the blanket. "No, that's not what I meant", he said quickly, a shy smile appearing on his face. "I actually meant that breakfast smells heavenly." He winked. 

"Oh," Thomas said stupidly, blushing a bit. "Thanks. Too bad the patient only gets dry toast."

Newt sat up with lightning-quick speed. "You're kidding, aren't you?!" The shocked expression on his face was priceless.

"I am indeed", the brunet said, handing his patient a plate with the lovely-smelling French toast on it. "Enjoy. But leave some space for the fruit."

Since Newt hadn't seen the movie's ending the night before, he begged Thomas to put it on, and the two boys watched the partly quite violent film while happily munching their breakfast. The closeness that had established itself miraculously the night before was still there, and Thomas sat next to Newt on the couch, sharing his blanket, as if that were what they usually did on a Saturday morning. The brunet wished that were true.

Newt's appetite was back; he almost breathed in the French toast and happily impaled the fruit on his fork one by one, leaving only the apples; "I'm allergic, you know", he explained when he handed Thomas the bowl.

"No, I actually didn't", the other boy answered stupidly, which made the blond grin. "Well, now you know", he smiled and looked at Thomas for two seconds before placing a kiss on his cheek. 

The brunet didn't know what to do except stab one of Newt's apples and eat it. He wasn't gonna ruin the building trust between them by being pushy.

Newt was still looking at him.

"Thanks, Tommy", he whispered. 

"Don't mention it", Thomas answered, mouth still half-full (very sexy, Edison, you idiot), "I really like apples."

Newt chuckled, but then once more turned disturbingly serious (for his standards). "I mean for all of this. The drugs, the food, and you even stayed the night!" He had started playing with the hem of his sofa blanket, combing through the fringes, and lowered his gaze to his hands.

Thomas sensed that being so sincere was actually a big thing for the blond, and he reached out to quickly brush his shoulder. "It's okay", he said calmly, "Hippocratic oath, remember?"

A small smile crossed the other guy's face and vanished again. "Tommy, I..." He hesitated. "I don't want you to think that I don't have friends to call when I'm ill... It's just..." Newt gulped between his words as if the next sentence was a particularly nasty-tasting one. "I just kind of have a problem accepting help. Or letting anybody come close to me, I guess." He looked up again, and Thomas was taken aback by how haunted those huge dark eyes looked. "But now you're here, Tommy, and it feels kind of nice to be taken care of."

_Yes._

YESYESYESYES!!!!

Newt was warming up to him. Newt was lowering the drawbridge and let Thomas see behind his walls. Newt was opening up. Newt was comfortable around him.

Newt liked the brunet taking care of him.

Hooshuckingray!!!!

Thomas tried not to let anything show on his face, but he knew it was impossible; he could literally feel his eyes light up like a lighthouse. He raised his hand to do what he'd wanted to do for so long and swept a messy blond strand away from Newt's forehead and, before he could stop himself, bent forward to gently kiss it.

If the blond disapproved, he didn't show.

"It's okay", Thomas said again. "I enjoyed being here."

The other boy laughed. "Mad as hatter, aren't you?" he said, smiling. "Who enjoys people being sick?"

The brunet grinned back. "Occupational hazard, I guess."

Newt eyed him suspiciously. "When you say enjoyed as in past tense, does that mean you're leaving now?" The way he crinkled his forehead made him look like a scrutinizing child, and it was incredibly cute.

The brunet decided to put that into the other boy's hands. "Would you like me to?" _Please say no. Please say no. Please say no._

The few seconds of pause felt like a lifetime, but Newt finally shook his head. "No", he said, "I would like to watch another film. Do you know _Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels_?"

Thomas didn't, and so he put it on and, when he returned to the couch, was surprised that Newt shoved a cushion into his arms and leaned against it. As the movie started, the brunet hesitatingly put his right arm onto the blond's back.

It stayed there for the whole movie.

...

Thomas left the flat in the early afternoon. He'd redressed the bed, washed the sheets, made a casserole for lunch, eaten with Newt on the couch (the blond had found yet another extremely entertaining British crime film for them) and tucked the boy in when his eyelids had begun to droop after lunch. The night had been exhausting for both of them, it seemed.

"The casserole is in the fridge. It's enough for dinner, and I can bring you lunch tomorrow if you want. If anything's up, _tell me_ , okay? Your phone is right here", Thomas had said, holding said cell phone up for emphasis before putting it back on the table. 

"I don't deserve you, Tommy", the blond said and yawned wide-mouthed, looking like a baby lion. Awww.

Thomas smiled. "Yes you do."

"No, seriously, I don't. I'm a terrible person." A chill ran down the brunet's spine. Newt didn't sound like he was kidding. Thomas chose to ignore it; the pale, sleepy blond boy on the couch didn't look as if he were a danger to even a butterfly. 

"Seriously. Call me. It doesn't matter whether I'm studying here or at home."

"Yes it does", Newt mumbled, already sleepy, probably from the cold meds. "I'm a distraction."

"You always are, no matter where I am", Thomas muttered, but the blond apparently didn't hear. He continued, louder, "If I don't hear from you today, I'll come back."

The blond nodded, his eyes already closed. "Good night, Tommy."

Thomas looked down at the blond; his face was so relaxed, his hair a mess - he looked perfectly comfortable. There was nothing he could do. He turned to go, but was then surged by an impulse and bent down to chastely kiss Newt on the lips. Newt didn't wake - duh, he wasn't Sleeping Beauty - but Thomas could have sworn the corners of his mouth moved upwards just a tiny bit.

All in all, the last twenty-four hours had given the brunet more hope than all their previous encounters combined.

...

When he came home, nobody was there except Brenda; she was in the kitchen, creating a dough of sorts.

"When are you finally moving in, Bren?" Thomas greeted her, elbowing her brotherly. "Oh right, you practically live here, anyway. You're like Lily from How I Met Your Mother. Is your flat a Chinese restaurant yet?" He grinned stupidly.

"Oh, shut up, you", Brenda said and swatted his hand away. "Hand me the flour, will you?"

"What are you making?" Thomas asked as he complied with her demand.

The girl sighed. "Chocolate chip cookies. I need them for my sanity. I can't study all the time. Help me?"

"Sure."

The brunet left to wash his hands and started chopping chocolate when he came back; they preferred to actually cut up the chocolate themselves so they could determine how big the chunks would be. In this case, huge.

"So, how is Newt?" Brenda asked after she'd ranted about her upcoming pedagogy exam for a few minutes.

"Better, thanks", Thomas said, and because he needed to talk to someone about how happy and hopeful he felt, he told Brenda everything that had happened, from the feverish Newt telling him it was good to see him to the blond falling asleep on his shoulder and the confession about being unable to accept help this very morning. While he talked, the brunet couldn't hide his grin; it just felt so good to share all this with his best female friend.

"What do you say?" he asked when he'd finished. A glance over at Brenda's face gave away the fact that she didn't share his enthusiasm.

"Well", she started, wiping her hands on her Marvel apron (an awesome birthday gift from Minho) after she'd put the dough in the fridge, "do you really think he means it as in _I want to be your boyfriend_ and not just as in _I am thankful you helped me and you're an awesome fuck, but that's it_?"

Thomas frowned.

"First of all, young Lady, I am appalled by your way of speaking" - he ducked when Brenda threw a dish towel at him - "and secondly" - his tone was much less pompous now, "I don't know. I don't! But the thing is that he's opening up. And that's gotta be worth something, right?" 

The girl shrugged. "That's just it. I don't know if you're right."

The brunet started to protest, but Brenda shut him up. "No, Thomas, listen to me. I know you're falling head over heels for this guy. And yes, he was sweet during the last twenty-four hours. But then again he was feverish and on drugs, and he has told you on more than one occasion that he doesn't want a relationship; at least, he didn't want one back then. Don't be one of those people who think _Newt only says that because he hasn't dated ME yet_ " - Thomas winced because that was exactly what he'd been thinking - "and who are then bitter if Newt doesn't want a relationship. He might change, yes, but he might as well not. So don't put your whole heart in and don't rely on him changing his mind. You might get hurt, and I can't have that."

She stopped, looking desperate as if she wanted nothing more than for him to understand. "Just... Be careful, okay? He might be fun, and sexy, and smart, and all that good stuff, but he might not be the knight in shining armour but another robber knight who takes everything from you."

Thomas felt the truth in those words, and yet, he wanted nothing more than for her to be utterly and completely wrong. Her monologue had taken away most of his hope; it was true that Newt had always said he didn't want a relationship. But could it be that he'd changed his mind? Couldn't it very well be that Thomas _was_ indeed all the Brit was looking for? He so desperately wanted it to be true.

"Wow, what a speech, Bren", he said, trying to sound teasingly, but failing. He sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Whoa, I think I really need some chocolate chip cookies, too, now."

"I'm sorry." The girl sat down next to him. "Good thing we made twice as much dough as anticipated."

"Yup." He thought for a second. "When you said _another_ robber knight, did you mean Teresa was the first one?"

"Yup."

"So I'm the damsel in distress in this scenario?"

The girl nodded gravely. Thomas sighed.

The kitchen grew quiet for a few moments except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the humming of the fridge. Then Brenda got up.

"You know what you need?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"Cookies?" Thomas glanced up at her from under his thick lashes.

"True. But apart from that, you need an emergency dance party. Come here!"

And with that, the petite girl switched on the stereo, selected a catchy pop song, turned up the volume and pulled a reluctant Thomas from his chair.

"Come on, Thomas, just shake it off!" Brenda smiled and started jumping around like a rubber ball.

After half a minute, Thomas had lost any inhibitions and gave the girl twirls until she couldn't stop laughing and needed a break to breathe.

They didn't study a lot that afternoon. After the dough was chilled (and they were hot from dancing), they formed the cookies, and while the cookies were baking and cooling, they read their respective notes. After that, they grabbed a plate of still-warm cookies, sat on the sofa in the living room and watched a rerun of New Girl.

"Where's you boyfriend, by the way?" Thomas asked, munching a cookie.

"Work. Don't worry, I already texted him to bring us drinks."

The brunet put his head on Brenda's shoulder. "You're literally the best."

"I know." She dismissively patted his dark hair.

Thomas' phone vibrated, and the brunet almost dropped his cookie when he saw that Newt had texted. Was he blond worse again? Had something happened?

But no.

_You even did the dishes? You are amazing!_

And a second one after that.

_It's boring without you._

A happy smile spread across Thomas' face. He showed the phone to Brenda. "See? It's boring without me!! Isn't that a good sign?" Yes it was. It was, wasn't it?

Brenda studied his face before inclining her head and giving a tiny sigh. "I hope so, Thomas", she said, sounding anything but optimistic. "I truly hope so."

The brunet sighed as well and grabbed another cookie. Brenda was so depressing, but he couldn't let that catch on. Newt thought it was boring without him? That was a good sign, nobody could tell him it wasn't. And he would do the right thing and chase away this boredom - when he'd visit the blond with some lunch tomorrow.

Smiling, he grabbed his phone to text back.

_What would you like for lunch tomorrow? :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys, thanks for reading!! Wow, chapter 10 already - thank you so much for sticking around, I appreciate it very much <3  
> I hope you liked the chapter and I'm looking forward to your feedback :3  
> The title is a line from the song "Back To You" by Twin Forks, and since I'm obsessing over Reign at the moment, I thought it'd fit :)  
> Have a great day and talk to you soon <3  
> Loads of love xx


	11. Seasons Change But People Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas gets Newt to spend the day with him, but how will it go?

During the next two weeks, winter came over the city. Soundless snowflakes tumbled to the ground and wrapped houses, cars and streets alike in a thick white cloak, despite the inhabitants' best attempts to rid themselves of the wet masses in order to go about their daily business without delay. Thomas, however, didn't mind; he enjoyed the winter wonderland, loved to step into the perfectly white, untouched snow as he took quick walks between study sessions (he wasn't in the mood to get his sneakers soaked running through three inches of slushy wetness). Frankly, he wouldn't have minded if there'd been a blizzard; the brunet was just incredibly happy.

Newt was back to being absolutely healthy again, thanks to Thomas' devoted help, and the medical student couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between them. The blond was back to regularly visiting the coffee shop and inviting Thomas into his bed. However, it seemed that he lingered a bit longer when getting his cappuccino, cuddled up a bit more after sex. Those were little things, surely, but they were there. It was like watching a shy cat beginning to trust a human - okay that was a stupid comparison. So maybe, slowly, Newt was getting ready to take the leap and fall in love again. 

"Are you going to Europe for Christmas?" Thomas asked one afternoon as they lay between Newt's green silk sheets (the guy seriously had silk sheets. Like. What. The brunet still only could boast Ikea blankets, for shuck's sake!), still hot from the fact that the brunet had just taken an ecstatic ride. The room was comfortably warm, and the soft sheets and waves of bliss made him feel tired in a cosy way.

"Nah", Newt breathed, still practically gasping. "I might have visitors, though." He glanced over at Thomas and grinned. "Interesting pillow talk you've got going there, Tommy."

The brunet grinned back. "Oh, you know, when the mind wanders..." He shrugged and then quickly rolled out of the way as Newt tried to hit him with a pillow, but he wasn't fast enough to escape the blond's surprise attack, and within seconds he was pinned beneath him, fatigue washed away as he squirmed against him.

Newt grinned down at him diabolically. "If you think that you've seen it all", he whispered into Thomas' ear, and the brunet shuddered at the warm breath against his skin, "if you think that you've felt it all... Well, you are wrong. I can have you begging for more within seconds." At that, Thomas' soft cock resurrected partly. "But-", and with that single syllable, Newt rolled off him, "you've reminded me of the fact that I haven't bought any Christmas presents yet, and now I've got to kick you out to get started on a bloody list."

"You're not _serious_." Thomas sat up abruptly and stared at the blond, lying on his back, innocently twirling his thumbs. "You're not gonna leave me unsatisfied after that?"

"Unsatisfied? I remember you coming all over me a mere five minutes ago!" Newt laughed mischievously. 

The brunet blushed. "Well, true. But now... " He let his hand slide down the blond's muscular chest. "Wouldn't you like me to return the favour?"

"Tommy, I'm shocked! You'd risk my poor old gran in Surrey not getting her Christmas present in time just to shag me?"

Thomas blushed even more. He steadied himself with a deep breath. "Wouldn't want that, of course. But I'm gonna hit the shops tomorrow, and I thought maybe you'd like to come along? I don't enjoy shopping, but maybe, with you there, it'd suck less." He knew this was a bold suggestion. Newt might easily say no, be offended even. He had said on several occasions that he didn't want a date with Thomas, and Brenda had told him to be careful. But still, he didn't like to hunt for Christmas presents, and with the blond there, it might actually be nice - they could make fun of consumer culture and grab a coffee at the shop and maybe it would be okay. Of course it would be - if it was the two of them together, it would be fine, even great.

Thomas braced himself for rejection when he saw Newt's gaze - rather cool, almost calculating. He opened his mouth -

"Sure", Newt said, and as usual, his pronunciation reminded Thomas of the ocean shore, "could be fun. If it means you're gonna fuck me now?"

And Thomas was more than happy to oblige.

...

Thomas had almost anticipated Newt to go back on his promise to meet him the next day, but sure enough, the blond showed up to pick him up from his shift at the coffee shop on time, causing the brunet to turn around to hide his smile. He fixed them two to-go drinks before hanging up his apron and wishing Minho, who eyed Newt curiously, a good day. Thomas had forced his best friend to swear not to be awkward; this wasn't a real date, after all, and introductions would probably only have added an uncomfortable weirdness to the whole situation.

"Hi there", Thomas said, sliding the tall cappuccino over the table at which Newt was waiting. "Free cappuccino?"

The blond looked up from his phone and smiled surprisingly gently. "Sure, thanks." He got up. "Are you ready to get the Christmas madness started?"

"Totally."

The two boys left the coffee shop and started walking towards the main shopping lanes; malls gave Newt a headache, he'd declared the previous night, so they'd settled to go check out hipster shops and vintage boutiques - surely Thomas would find something there for his parents and his friends from the flat, too. It's not like it wouldn't be cool to have uncommon presents.

"Did you write a list, then?" the brunet asked his companion, glancing over at him. Newt looked amazing in his coat, his cheeks coloured by the cold - it was good to see him on his feet again, back to his usual sure-footed self.

"I did, actually." Newt started rummaging through his pocket with his free hand, which didn't go well; Thomas suppressed a grin, which the blond answered with a smile. "Call me a massive dork if you will, but I'd rather look stupid than give a coffee that good into your hands, and if it's only for a second!"

Thomas laughed out loud at that. "Dude, you forget that I made that coffee!"

"Oh no, I don't. But you've got some seasonal drink bollocks, and I know you long for my cappuccino!"

The brunet put his free hand on his hip. "Hey, don't you insult my cinnamon macchiato! I love seasonal drinks!" He frowned at the blond, who simply grinned.

"Right, so you're the massive dork then, glad we've established that." He pulled a piece of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Oh, there it is!" He shook it open and started reading. "Mum, dad, gran, aunt Evelyn, Sonya." He looked over at Thomas. "Sounds manageable, doesn't it?"

The brunet nodded, especially because his list was, like, double Newt's. "Any ideas as to what to give them?"

The blond shrugged so exaggeratedly that Thomas was afraid he'd literally spill coffee over his blue coat. "None whatsoever. But I think that's the best precondition for going shopping. Just give me a nice bookstore or vintage clothes shop and I'll manage." He smiled over at his companion. "Enter Tommy. I need you to be my guide and give the occasional opinion."

That was music to Thomas' ears. "Sure, no problem."

They entered a vintage bookstore in a narrow street off the main shopping lane; the brunet loved that particular store - not because he bought and read classics so extensively, but because it was filled with stories of real people, too, the people whose books were now on sale there. Thomas loved to imagine the journeys those books had been on; had this Austen novel served as a holiday read on a trip to Australia? How many children had read that copy of Narnia before it had ended up here? People had left their traces on the pages, yes, but he didn't see them as flawed for it - Thomas loved people, that was why he had chosen med school in the first place, and therefore he also enjoyed browsing through used books. 

Newt was just as enthusiastic about the shop and started skimming the shelves immediately. Thomas stepped over into the pedagogy section; maybe he'd find a cool book for Brenda - she always enjoyed new input for her lesson plans. And really, he found a book that promised 99 ideas to motivate children - a given one, really. He smiled to himself.

"Why are you smiling?" 

Thomas looked to his right to see Newt leaning against the bookshelf. "Oh, I think I've just found a perfect present", he said, blushing slightly at the sensation of being observed by the other guy. He held up the book.

"Oh. Are your parents teachers?" Newt asked, creating another entry in Thomas' mental list of the blond showing interest in his life. They were getting more frequent, too. Good sign.

"No, but one of my best friends is gonna be the best teacher ever." He now realised that Newt was holding a book, too. "Have you found something?"

The blond seemed a bit nervous. "See, I am not quite sure about this", he said, holding out a beautiful edition of Matilda. Thomas took it, looking at it from all sides.

"It's really nice", he said, "love the illustrations. Who's it for?"

"Sonya." His voice seemed to be tenderer when he said that word.

"Okay", Thomas said, and when no explanation followed, "Who is Sonya?"

Newt smiled apologetically. "Sorry, sometimes I forget you don't know." _Believe me, Newt, I don't._ "She's my baby sister."

The brunet smiled. "If she likes to read, I think that's a very nice gift." Newt nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, mate." And he returned to the fiction section.

Thomas couldn't help but think that the blond's behaviour was a bit awkward, and he should be right.

Ten minutes later, they left the bookshop - the brunet had purchased the book on pedagogics, along with a book on medical curiosities for Gally (he'd love all that creepy klunk, most definitely) and two ancient cooking books that could have been his great-grandma's; his mom worked quite successfully writing cooking books and blogs, and he was sure she'd love to try out some of those traditional dishes to add a modern twist. Newt had bought the Dahl novel and a beautiful photography book with pictures of the US. "My aunt's afraid of flying, you know, but this way, she can take a look at this strange and foreign land herself", he smirked.

They were rummaging through a vintage clothes shop when Newt suddenly appeared beside Thomas and said, "Matilda isn't just any book."

The brunet turned to look at Newt and furrowed his brows in confusion. "I guess not?"

The blond shook his head and took a deep breath. "Sonya was more or less a project for my parents to keep their marriage going. Needless to say it didn't work, and they fought a lot. When they were at it, Sonya would climb into my bed, and I would read to her. Her favourite book was Matilda. I must have read it to her at least a dozen times. When I'd finish, she'd ask "Again?", and I would just start from the top. I know she remembers, but... I was unsure if it's still suitable for her. She's twelve now", he added to explain his doubts.

Thomas was almost overwhelmed with so much new information. _Has a sister. Parents are divorced. Is a loving and caring brother._

"I mean... _I_ love Matilda, if I'm any point of reference", he said. "And I think she'll appreciate it."

Newt smiled, and he looked extremely relieved. "Thanks, Tommy." He hesitated, but then added. "When my parents got a divorce and sent her to a boarding school, I figured she'd be okay on her own in the UK. But still, I'd love the idea of her having a copy. She tried to sneak it into my suitcase every time I went home, and last time, she actually succeeded." He smiled, a bit guiltily maybe. He clearly liked having that book.

In an impulse, Thomas reached out and grabbed Newt's hand. "I think it's a wonderful idea. You're an amazing brother." The other boy didn't answer but with a nod, and he didn't let go of his hand until after they left the shop without buying anything. Thomas' stomach was filled with butterflies.

...

The afternoon went by as they gradually loaded themselves with bags of presents. The pensive mood Newt's revelations had initiated had faded as soon as Thomas had started guessing the contents of other people's bags, and they had made it into a game of coming up with silly presents. The brunet felt happy and light-headed with the joy of spending quality time with Newt. It felt so good, so right. Hopefully, Newt would admit that rather sooner than later.

The daylight had already faded when they made their way back slowly across the now less crowded streets. It was snowing slightly, and Thomas felt as if he were the lead guy in a romantic comedy; the afternoon felt like one of those montage scenes when a happy pop song is playing while the couple is shown in various adorable scenes. Newt and him walking, drinking coffee, laughing; the two of them trying silly hats in a vintage shop; Thomas wholeheartedly dissuading Newt from getting his dad an especially ugly tie just to spite him and Newt trying to put the tie around his neck.

And now they were here, walking through the light snow. It was the perfect finale.

"The next week is gonna be so bloody stressful", Newt sighed, pushing a bit of snow into a tiny hill with the tip of his boot before continuing on his way. "All those rehearsals for the university Christmas concert... And I am the pianist, that's basically the silly bugger who needs to sit and wait patiently while the others try to get their shit together." He sighed again.

"That sucks", Thomas said, casually brushing Newt's hand. 

"Yup." 

"But..." The brunet hesitated. "Will I then even see you again before Christmas?"

"I suppose so." Newt frowned. "Sure. Why? Why not?" He seemed suspicious all of a sudden.

Whereas Thomas was mainly relieved. "Oh, just because of the gift -"

Newt stopped dead in his tracks. "Gift?"

"Sure." The other guy only realised after two steps that the blond wasn't moving anymore. He turned around. "Newt?"

Said boy stared at Thomas in disbelief. "You have a gift for me?"

The brunet paused shortly. "Yeah, I do." He waited for two seconds, but nothing came. "What's the problem?"

"Why." It wasn't even a question, more of an insult.

"Why what?" Thomas said, confused.

"Why did you get me a gift?" Newt looked honestly shaken.

Thomas shrugged, shaking his bags in the process. "Why wouldn't I get you a gift, Newt? Don't make a fuss."

The blond seemed more distant by the second. "I didn't ask why you wouldn't, I asked why you did", he said calmly, but Thomas sensed that his insides were just as much in turmoil as his own.

He sighed in exasperation. "Oh come on, you know why, Newt, for the same reason that I came over when you were sick, and for the same reason I get you free coffee. I like you, and I want to be with you!"

There. He'd said it. No going back on this now.

Newt took a step back. They were easily four feet apart now. "No."

"What do you mean, no?" Thomas said. Cold terror gripped his heart. This was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Newt was supposed to want to be with Thomas, too. He liked him, didn't he? He'd agreed to their almost-date today, for shuck's sake, they'd been sleeping together for weeks, and snuggling up when Newt had been sick!

"I mean", the blond said very quietly, "that this is wrong." He shook his head and continued, louder and more agitated, "I mean, why did we even bother to have a casual arrangement if you just decide to go ahead and fall for me?"

What the actual...? Thomas just stared for a few seconds, his bewildered gaze meeting Newt's furious one.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" he said, incredulously and more loudly than he'd planned, "It's not some switch you can turn off, Newt!" He stopped himself. "Look", he continued more quietly, "I'm sorry if that's a shock now, but I can't help the way I feel. And I know that if you just gave me a chance, if you actually listened-"

"No."

"See, that's exactly what I mean!" Thomas pointed at Newt. "I mean, can we just talk about this without you trying to shut me up immediately? What are you so shucking afraid of?"

Newt looked at him for a few seconds, then turned around and started walking. After a moment of stunned silence, Thomas quickly moved to catch up and step in his way.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice almost pleading as Newt refused to meet his eyes.

"I'm leaving." The blond raised his head, seeming incredibly arrogant again all of a sudden, just like he had when they had first met. "One of us has to be the sensible one and end this now."

"End this? What..." Thomas was actually lost for words. "Newt, feelings aren't dangerous or anything, just... Talk to me!" He looked at the blond, his eyes shining with tears that were just waiting to be shed in this terrible, nightmare-like moment. "Just because your parents didn't work doesn't mean-"

Newt jerked back. "You don't know anything about me", he hissed, resembling an angry lion more than a boy, before he went back to looking perfectly smooth the next second - the old familiar mask. 

"I know, and that's the problem, Newt, please, don't leave me like that!" Thomas knew he was begging, and he didn't care. He was about to be left by a person he cared for. Again. He couldn't bear it.

Something was there in Newt's eyes behind his untouchable facade - pity? Regret? The brunet couldn't be sure. But that didn't change the fact that his next words were "Goodbye, Thomas."

_Thomas._ Not Tommy. He'd apparently lost that privilege when he'd confessed his feelings for the blond.

Newt stepped around him, and in a last attempt, he grabbed his arm. "Please", Thomas said, "don't do this."

The other boy didn't respond but only looked at the hand holding him back. He wasn't contemplating the touch, he was merely waiting to be released.

After a few seconds, Thomas let go.

And Newt walked away, not once turning around.

Curiously, the brunet didn't look after him. He looked up to the sky, watching the snowflakes dance soundlessly through the still young night. Their beauty was such an overwhelming contrast to the pain he felt in his heart.

He stood there for a long time, and his face was getting wet - whether from tears or melted snowflakes, he couldn't have said. He was cold, but it didn't really matter. It didn't even matter that he was still in the very spot where Newt had said he didn't want him. Because Newt wasn't coming back. He wasn't gonna change his mind.

Because he really didn't want him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> Thanks for reading <3  
> I know I'm a bit early but it's Girls Day tomorrow and I'd hate to keep you waiting :)  
> Please don't kill me for this, my beta warned me, but I think this is exactly what this fic needs right now :) Please tell me in the comments if you agree/disagree/want my address so you can punch me in the face :D  
> The title is again a Fall Out Boy line because they just seem to have an appropriate song for every emotion...  
> I'll be back soon, I love every single one of you <3   
> Take care xx


	12. Trying To Forget Everything That Isn't You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is heartbroken and getting drunk. I wonder if that's a good idea...

Thomas couldn't have said when or how he got home, but when he did, he was freezing. He supposed that it was a good thing that he was still feeling _something_ , albeit the numbing cold. Dropping his bags and wet clothes in the hallway, he walked into the living room from where the noise of the TV could be heard. 

Brenda, Minho and Gally were sitting on the couch; Gally cheered on the Asian guy while his girlfriend kicked his butt at Fifa. Brenda was awesome at a lot of things, and playing videogames was one of them. Gally looked up when Thomas came in, and he just stared at him for a few seconds.

"Take that!" Brenda yelled, oblivious to the brunet's presence, before starting to sing the anthem of club she was playing: "Walk oooon, walk oooon with hoooope in your heaaaart..."

"Thomas, what the _hell_ happened?" Gally said, breaking his shocked silence.

The other two's heads flew around to stare at their friend. Minho paused the game immediately. Apparently, Thomas really looked as bad as he felt. His teeth were still chattering. 

"Thomas, bro, what -" Minho got up and reached out for him, not quite sure what to do. His eyes wandered from the brunet's wet hair to his red-rimmed eyes to his shivering form. Thomas couldn't do anything but stare back. He watched his best friend look clueless for a few more seconds before his doctor instincts kicked in. Minho grabbed one of the fluffy blankets from the couch and started wrapping it around Thomas. "Come on, sit. Bren, tea. Gally, hot water bottle. Now", he ordered without taking his eyes off his friend, pressing him down into the cushions before grabbing another blanket for his feet.

"Got it", Gally said, and he left the room together with Brenda. Thomas couldn't see her concerned look, but he felt it.

When they were alone, Minho felt his forehead to check for potentially high temperature. "What happened, Thomas?" he asked, and his voice was kind and soft, the way it turned when he complimented Brenda or when he talked to his mum on the phone. Or the way he had comforted him the days and weeks after he had found Teresa and Aris in the library together.

Thomas met his gaze, and there was only worry for him in it. It was touching to see how much his friend cared. Unlike other people, who didn't care. _Newt doesn't care about me._ He still couldn't believe it.

He cleared his throat. "Newt... Doesn't want to be with me", he croaked, his voice breaking. Saying it out loud made it more real. He promised himself that very second that he wouldn't utter this sentence ever again.

Minho didn't nod in acknowledgement but shook his head in disbelief. "I'm so sorry", he simply said, every syllable completely sincere. He pulled him into a hug, and Thomas, surprised as he was, let himself be held by his best friend. He could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. This was his home, and he wasn't ashamed of his feelings. "I'm sorry", Minho said again, and there really wasn't anything for Thomas to answer.

Gally and Brenda returned a few moments later, and Minho let go of Thomas so he could hug the hot water bottle instead and cradle a cup of hot tea. His friends sat around silently, not actually looking at him or each other. It was weird.

"Are you warmer yet, Thomas?" Brenda asked eventually, and Thomas nodded. When nobody said anything else, the brunet cleared his throat. "Okay, so, I don't want to talk about it, so can you please just go back to playing Fifa? That would be immensely helpful?" He felt horrible, but if his friends could just go back to having fun again, maybe, just maybe, his state would improve a tiny bit.

Brenda looked at Minho. "Up for having your ass kicked for the third time today?"

Her boyfriend glared at her. "That's what you think."

So Thomas spent the evening on the couch between Brenda and Gally. The others played Fifa until their fingers hurt, but even when they stopped, they didn't leave. They put on some action movie, and even though the brunet didn't really pay attention, the image of Newt stepping away from him replaying in his head like a broken record, it felt good to just be with his friends. They brought him tea and chocolate and more blankets and didn't ask any questions. As it got late, none of them left, they just all got themselves blankets and sweatpants and put on another silly action movie without any romantic plotlines. Thomas didn't have to say that he'd rather not be alone - Minho, Gally and Brenda simply understood. And so he fell asleep next to his friends at some point during the early morning hours, his head hurting from crying, his heart broken, but his three best friends sitting beside him.

...

Days passed, and Newt didn't call or text. Neither did Thomas. He didn't have anything to say he hadn't said yet - that he wanted to be with the blond, that he thought he should give him, Thomas, a chance. He had begged him not to go. What else could he have said, really? Besides, he couldn't stand the thought that Newt might end the call without picking up or completely ignore his attempts to get in touch. So he didn't contact him. He rarely looked at his phone, leaving it in Minho's room for entire days to keep the temptation out of sight. Instead, he studied. 

His exam took place on the last day before winter break, and when Thomas left the lecture theatre with Gally and Minho, they were swept along in the general wave of pre-holiday excitement.

"That was alright, I guess?" Minho said, summing up his exam experience in one sentence. Gally nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know about the first part, to be honest, it was quite long", he said, hesitating. "The second part was rather easy, I mean hello, we covered that last year, and the third part - well, multiple choice is always a tricky thing, and -"

"Yes, Gally, we were there, we all know what it was about", Minho said, cutting his analysis short and opening the door for his two friends. "End of term pizza with the others now and party tonight?"

Thomas had dreaded this topic; he had avoided it ever since the Terrible Shopping Incident (short TSI in his mind). He didn't feel like going to a party, he felt like sitting on the couch at home, next to his friends, or even studying with them. He also dreaded not going to the party, because it would mean he'd have to spend the evening alone and his thoughts would, without a doubt, circle around Newt, even though the brunet had tried not to think about him at all (and failed miserably). So it was either going to a party and seeing Teresa, because really, the med school wasn't that big and literally everyone would be at the department's Christmas party, or not going to a party and succumbing to misery and loneliness.

Not exactly thrilling alternatives.

"I'm all in", Gally said, still a bit annoyed at having been interrupted in his analysis of their exam. "What about you, Thomas?" Both of them looked at him carefully, and the brunet let his gaze fall to the slushy snow they were walking through. "I don't know yet."

"Oh, come on, it will be great!" Gally said, "There'll be lots of booze and people - people we see every day, granted, but - we've never missed the Christmas party before, and it would suck if you skipped it -"

Thomas looked up in time to see Minho shoot Gally a warning glance, but he actually thought it was sweet of his friend to say such a thing. "Thanks", he said quietly, nodding. "I'll think about it, alright?"

"Alright", Gally said, his voice just as quiet, and for a moment they were all silent, until Minho asked what Pizza they should eat.

"Same order as always!" Gally and Thomas answered simultaneously, and the brunet couldn't help but laugh with his best friends. He loved their rituals - the boys were like brothers to him, and he couldn't have said what he'd have done without them.

"I'll come along tonight", he said then, even surprising himself, his emotion mirrored in the others' faces. "Don't look at me like that, just - I'm in, okay? Don't make a fuss." His friends looked at each other and grinned happily. "Okay", Minho said, "we're gonna have so much fun."

Thomas doubted that, but he was ready to be proven wrong. He was just sick and tired of feeling down all the time.

...

Thomas, Gally and Minho arrived at the party rather late; they had had a beer together at home before, compliment of Minho's, since Thomas wasn't actually old enough to buy his own beer (he would be in two months, though, so it hardly mattered) and were in the best of spirits - two of them, at least, but Thomas actually felt better, almost as good as before the TSI. His hair was decent for once, he was wearing his favourite long-sleeved shirt (emerald green - thanks, Brenda) and the beer had made him more relaxed than he'd been in days. He was going to be all right - he was even going to have fun, or he'd fail trying.

The party took place in the department's ground floor; several of the classrooms had been transformed into bars and dance floors playing different styles of music, and the huge hallway served as a place for those who wanted to catch up, chat or make out publicly while sitting on the benches lining the walls. The bright lights were reflected in the glass walls of the hallway, which looked stunning in the wintery darkness. It was a cold night, so the three of them didn't take their time admiring the magical view, but went inside. It was custom that the first years took over the bars, and since none of them were legally allowed to actually drink, everybody got as much booze as they wanted to. The department turned a blind eye - the rector figured that as long as none of the staff actually had to work, the students could do as they pleased; plus, enough people with medical experience were around in case anything should happen. Needless to say the department parties were the best parties to attend if you weren't actually avoiding a few of your colleagues (like Thomas). But that didn't matter today - he'd faced Teresa twice in the last few weeks and he'd looked good in both those situations. And Jeff. Well, he wasn't all that uncomfortable around him anymore - it would be okay.

The three of them dropped their jackets off at their lockers and made for the bar that was set up in the chemistry lab to get a beer. The room was noisy and crowded, but laughter echoed back from the white walls, and the atmosphere was cheerful. They sat down on top of one of the white tables that were pushed against the walls and were promptly approached by a group of people from their year - Harriet, Zart and a guy everyone simply called Frypan because of a rather unorthodox method he had used to open a corpse's skull in anatomy class last year; the story was already a university legend.

"Hi guys!", Harriet chimed; she was a very pretty girl with beautiful dark skin and huge brown eyes that painfully remembered Thomas of Newt's. That was, until he saw Gally blush - his friend obviously had a crush on the girl, and the evening seemed more interesting all of a sudden; a Gally who was lucky in love was very high up on Thomas' Christmas list (just after a Newt for himself). "May we join you?" She didn't wait for an answer and hopped onto the table, sitting down next to Gally, whose eyes seemed to practically blaze with enthusiasm. Cute.

"Sure." Thomas edged closer to Minho to make space for Zart and Frypan, and the two guys sat down. "What's up, guys? Don't you want a drink?"

"Jeff is getting us one at the moment", was Zart's smiling answer, and Thomas experienced a brief moment of panic at having Jeff close to him, but he knew it was ridiculous. Jeff had been in love with him and Thomas hadn't been ready to move on, and maybe also not that into him. Things like that happened. Still, the nod he gave in acknowledgement was followed by a big gulp of his beer.

Frypan started talking about how they were planning a huge New Year's Eve party at his house - "you guys so totally need to come, by the way" - and Minho enthusiastically accepted the invitation for the four of them (Brenda, obviously, was gonna be there as well). Gally was too wrapped up in conversion with Harriet to hear, which made Thomas smile happily. This was going well.

He caught Jeff's eyes that exact moment and his smile haltered while the other boy stopped. Jeff, standing a few feet away from them, hesitating, was undeniably handsome; being Mexican, his skin was a beautiful, bronze-like shade, and his dark curly hair was another level of awesome. He was tall and muscular from having trained martial arts for years, and his broken nose just added another interesting feature to his already remarkable face. He had four shot glasses in his hands, and he looked just a tiny bit shocked and mostly curious - exactly how the brunet felt. Thomas smiled at him, and he smiled back and came over then.

"Hey guys", he greeted the three of them and offered Harriet, Zart and Frypan their drinks. "I would have brought you something if I'd known you were here", he apologised, but Minho waved it away. "We're good, thanks."

Minho, Zart and Frypan continued to make plans for New Year's, and Thomas and Jeff looked at each other awkwardly. They hadn't spoken in months - their last exchange had been quite ugly, with the brunet declaring he didn't love Jeff enough for a relationship, admitting that he was still not over Teresa, and Jeff accusing him of being cold-hearted and manipulative. But seeing him now was actually nice - it was good too see his ex-lover return his smile as if he wasn't angry anymore. Thomas decided to tell him so.

"It's good to see you", he admitted, blushing slightly. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"I think we've both been avoiding each other", Jeff said, obviously equally embarrassed. "But it's nice to see you, too. Do you have a good feeling about today's exam?"

They started talking about the exam and their courses - it wasn't exactly a deep conversation, but it felt good to talk to Jeff. He'd always liked the guy, and it was good to know he was doing well. They were interrupted by Harriet calling for the shots to be necked, and when Minho suggested they should have another round, all seven of them, Jeff once more volunteered to get them (everybody knew Jeff was rich, even though he didn't let it show except for the fact that he liked to pay for stuff). "Would you help me carry the glasses?", he asked Thomas, who readily agreed while practically feeling Minho's eyebrows raise. He decided to ignore him.

While they were waiting at the bar, Jeff put his elbow onto the counter, leaning against it. His gaze was scrutinizing. "How are you, Thomas?" he asked. "Really, I mean. You don't look _fine_ ", he observed, quoting the word the brunet had used before.

Damn it! And he had tried so hard!

Thomas sighed. "It'll be fine. Right now I'm kind of trying to get over a pretty bad break-up." No need for details. They were painful enough in his head.

Jeff looked actually sympathetic. "Well, they're an idiot to treat you this way", he said, handing the girl behind the counter a few banknotes. It sounded sincere and genuinely sympathetic. Thomas was surprised.

"Thanks", he said. "I wouldn't have thought you'd pity me after what I did to you. I was an idiot, too."

Jeff shrugged without looking at him. "Well, I was pressuring you, and I shouldn't have. Mutual idiocy, I'd say." He looked up then, and they smiled at each other.

"I can live with that", Thomas said.

...

The evening was fun; they had several more rounds of shots, and Thomas felt himself getting more and more drunk. They kept to their table in the lab, and after squeezing a bit more together, they found room for all seven of them to sit. The brunet kept talking to Jeff; he had forgotten how much he actually _liked_ Jeff - he had a passion for artsy movies and could describe plots and explain technical details like no one else, and Thomas had always loved listening to him. It felt so personal to listen to someone be so absolutely enthusiastic about something - not like Newt, who was secretive and didn't share anything about himself. Glimpses at his soul had been rare.

_"You should have heard it, Tommy", Newt says, his eyes glistening with happiness, his arms thrown up into the air above his head as he is lying on the bed. "Handel's music is just so incredibly bright - it's like waking up to sunshine in your room, which is rare enough for a Londoner." He lets his arms fall back to his sides. "Am I boring you?" he asks, looking over at Thomas, who is naked next to him. "No", the brunet negates, his finger running over the blond's stomach. "I am very much intrigued." Newt laughs and pulls him into a passionate kiss._

Thomas tried to shake the thought. It didn't matter that Newt had been beautiful and incredibly smart and fascinating - he couldn't have him. Thinking about him while being drunk was a stupid idea, he might get too emotional. Instead, he resolved on getting another long drink for him and Jeff, insisting on paying this time.

It was getting late; midnight had come and gone unnoticed, and the party was still in full swing, albeit in a more dazed, drunk way. People were making out in corners, and Thomas had noticed Jeff's hand creep around his waist. He let him. Jeff was here, and he was nice, and he was beautiful in a very different way from Newt's perfect hipster look, and he was obviously still interested, and the brunet was drunk, and he didn't care. He was beyond caring at this point, he actually felt like doing something stupid.

So when Jeff offered to get them yet another drink, Thomas got up (slowly, because the world was swaying) and said, "Why don't we try another bar?" He knew that Jeff could see in his eyes what he was suggesting, and a sexy half-smile appeared on his mouth. "Sure", he agreed, grabbing Thomas' hand and pulling him after himself, out of the door and onto the hallway. Thomas didn't look back - he didn't care if Minho disapproved, but he didn't want to see it in his face, either; it might have convinced him to stop this before things got out of hand.

It was quieter outsid, with just a few couples sitting on the benches. Jeff observed the hallway before pulling the brunet towards the locker room; he was also noticeably drunk, not quite able to walk in a straight line anymore. Not that Thomas believed in straightness.

The locker room was more like a hall since it contained every med school student's personal locker, which were lined up in rows against the walls and in the middle of the huge room. Even though there was a light source, the hallways between the lockers were in almost total darkness. Perfect for making out.

Jeff pulled Thomas to the end of the hall; they passed a few couples on their way, but paid no attention - both of them were eager for what was to follow. Once they got to the last row, the Mexican guy pressed the brunet against the lockers and started kissing him fiercely. It felt amazing to be doing this; Jeff was a great kisser, and his lips were soft, and he knew exactly what Thomas liked. Thomas kissed him back with the same sense of need, and it felt awesome - he was drunk, he was horny, his head was clouded and his erection growing. When Jeff's hand slid down to cup it, a low moan escaped it. This was pure bliss, this was -

_"Public fondling, how cheeky", Thomas says, trying to sound nonchalant, but his breath is actually catching in his throat as Newt slides his hand into his pants. "That's okay, I'm gonna fuck you as soon as we're home", the blond answers matter-of-factly, and the brunet's jeans grow uncomfortably tight. He doesn't notice until after his second orgasm that Newt said "home" earlier instead of "my place" - as if Thomas belonged there, too..._

Thomas grew rigid. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by the situation - Jeff kissing his neck suddenly didn't feel nice, it felt - wrong. The wrong person was doing it.

He wanted Newt. He couldn't do this.

"Do you have a condom?" Jeff whispered into his ear, and the brunet panicked. He couldn't have sex with his ex here, he didn't want to. "No", he said, squirming out of his grasp in an uncontrolled way. "Jeff, no, I, I can't!"

"Why not?" Jeff was not annoyed, but confused - clearly, his drunk brain couldn't combine Thomas' refusal with the conversation about his unhappy breakup they'd had hours before. "What's wrong?"

"I - I have to go", the brunet stuttered before he turned and ran, occasionally bumping into lockers as he was blindly making his way out of the room. Jeff called after him, but didn't catch up.

Thomas ran out of the building and across the courtyard, only stopping to catch a breath when he noticed the cold. The air hit him like a slap in the face, and he staggered, grabbing a nearby bench for support before resolving on leaning against it - sitting on it was no option since it was covered in snow.

His chest was heaving, and he could feel tears running down his cheeks, but he was weirdly detached from himself. He didn't know how he could have let this happen - he had almost used Jeff _again_ to stand in for a person that he missed, and no alcohol level was an excuse for that. The poor guy deserved a devoted boyfriend, not to be played with. Thomas was shivering, and the world was still spinning, and he was crying, and he was a mess, and all he wanted was Newt.

He should call him.

No, he really shouldn't.

But then again, he should. He should tell the Brit once more how he really felt, with the honesty of a drunken fool. Would he embarrass himself? Most likely. But he felt so lost right there, and the only answer to this confusion was Newt.

Thomas pulled out his phone and selected the contact before pressing the call button.

Newt might just not pick up, he thought a second later. Oh well, he'd have to risk that. What time was it? He had no clue.

Newt picked up after the sixth ring. _"Thomas?"_

Oh God, how he'd missed his voice. "Newt, it's me, it's -" And he was sobbing again. "I'm sorry f-for calling you this late, b-but I'm at this party and I've just -" he stopped to breathe deeply, and Newt immediately started to speak.

_"Thomas, what happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?"_ The Brit sounded frightened, which was somehow awfully nice.

Thomas gulped down another mouthful of icy air. "No, I'm fine, I - my ex is here and I kissed him and I thought about you and God, I don't even know how much I drank but I needed to talk to you just now." He knew he was babbling, but it was all he was capable off between tears and chattering teeth and all the alcohol. It would have been a miracle if Newt had understood everything. He waited for an answer.

It came a few seconds later. _"Oh Tommy, I'm so sorry."_ Another pause. _"Where are you right now? Why is it so cold where you are?"_ How did Newt know that - oh, right, chattering teeth. 

"I'm at the med school", he said, "But I'm outside, I had to get away, I - Newt, I just don't know anymore." Another sobbing fit hit him, and he tried to calm down.

_"Okay, Tommy. What I want you to do is get back in and get your jacket. I'm coming to get you. I'll be in front of the main building in ten minutes. Can you do that for me? Get your jacket?"_

The brunet was confused. "You're coming here? Why?"

_"To get you."_ Newt's voice was patient. _"Can you go get your jacket? I'll be there. I promise. I'll only need a few minutes. Alright?"_

Thomas cleared his throat. "Sure." He reluctantly added: "Why are you doing this?" He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Newt sighed. _"Because I care, Tommy. I'll be right there. Get your stuff."_ And he hung up.

Thomas stared at his phone in wonder. Newt was coming to get him. He'd promised. He _cared_. Maybe everything was going to be okay.

He scrambled to his feet and made his way back to the brightly lit building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello babes, I'm back with another chapter - thanks for reading it, you are truly made of awesome :)  
> So this one's a bit longer - consider it a late Valentine's Day gift/an apology for the pain I caused you last time - I love how passionate you guys are about this, it's amazing!!  
> I hope you liked this latest chapter, let me know in the comments if you like Newt (and me) again :D  
> Loads of love and see you soon,  
> xx khaleesivero


	13. Like We're All Gonna Make It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt doesn't break his promise and shows to pick up Thomas. But does that mean everything will work out for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of suicide

Given the fact that he was drunk and in an emotional turmoil, it was a miracle that Thomas managed to enter the building, sneak into the locker room, unlock his locker, get his stuff, put on his jacket and leave the building all without puking, hurting himself or getting into another uncomfortable situation with Jeff. However, his ex was nowhere to be seen, and his exhilaration at Newt's promise to pick him up seemed to make everything easier. Still, when he exited the building after getting his things as quickly as possible, the blond was already there, waiting for him.

Two facts gave Newt away. Firstly, his was the only car parked opposite the building; with uni being over for the term and everyone knowing the party would be a total destruction booze-wise, nobody needed a car. And secondly, his car was a cherry red mini.

A _fucking mini._ Leave it to Newt to be subtle about his roots.

Thomas tried to stand up straighter when he saw Newt, but that didn't help his balance, and he staggered for a few strides. Promptly, the blond jumped out of his car and hurried towards him. "Whoa, easy there, mate", he said, putting an arm around Thomas. "Alright?" He asked when he'd helped steady the brunet.

Thomas had forgotten how absolutely beautiful Newt was. His coat was open over a not-so-cheap black suit that made him look positively dashing, like a gentleman straight out of _Downton Abbey_ (not that Thomas watched that. A lot.). His normally wild hair was almost tamed, as if he'd made an effort to make it look decent, but also as if several hours had passed since those efforts. He was gorgeous.

So yeah, seeing him, the brunet kind of felt _alright_.

"Why are you wearing a suit at 1 a.m.?" Thomas asked as a means of answering.

Newt chuckled briefly. "More like at 2:30 a.m. Come on, let's get you into that car. Do you think you'll be okay being driven?" That was a polite way of asking him if he'd be sick, the brunet realised, and thankfully, he could shake his head. "I'll be fine."

"Good." The two boys made their way slowly towards the car, rounded it, and got Thomas seated in the passenger seat, the blond making sure that he didn't bump his head against the car frame. As Newt leaned in to fasten his seatbelt, Thomas could smell his cologne, and it reminded him of the many times he'd kissed that neck. It made him sad.

Newt closed the door and got into the driver's seat. When he started the car, piano music sounded from the stereo, and he turned it down to a lower volume before pulling out of his parking spot.

It was warm in the car, and it smelled of Newt, and all of that made him feel better, but that didn't prevent Thomas from feeling awkward. So much had passed between the two of them, and even though he was feeling hopeful because of the blond's offer to pick him up, he also felt uncomfortable. Then his drunken brain remembered the suit.

"Seriously, what's with the suit, though?", he asked, his tone grave, as if this were a question of national security.

The Brit grinned and quickly glanced over at him. "I'd have been disappointed if you'd quit the case, Sherlock."

"Haha", Thomas said, being extremely quick-witted, as usual.

Newt smiled to himself. "We had our Christmas show tonight. I'd actually only got home from the after party when you called."

The brunet wasn't comfortable with the topic shifting towards his call. "So what did you play?" he asked, trying to avoid talking about how he'd stupidly called an ex-lover at 2 a.m.

"We did _Wicked_ , actually", the blond said as he pulled into a different street.

"Ah", Thomas said, glad he actually knew that musical, " _Wicked_ is good."

"Yeah, it was fun", Newt agreed, and then they were silent for a few seconds until Thomas recognised the street they were going along. "Wait, how do you know where I live?" How could he not have thought of giving the blond his address? Right, because he was really, really tipsy.

"I don't", Newt said. "I am heading for the coffee shop and hoping you'll give me directions from there."

"Well, we don't have to go that far. Take the next left."

Thomas directed Newt towards his house, and a few moments later, they had reached their goal.

"That's me", the brunet said, awkwardly glancing over at Newt. "Listen, it was so nice of you to - why are you parking?"

Newt backed his tiny red car into a gap between two other vehicles. "Because I'm taking you upstairs, obviously. What if you repeatedly miss the keyhole and freeze to death? Wouldn't want that on my conscience." And before Thomas could protest, Newt had jumped out of his seat and was helping him to get out himself. The blond seemed calm tonight, he thought, not his usual ironic self. Was Newt even okay? Was he always like that after a show? Or did he really genuinely care, like he'd said? Maybe he could ask him on their way upstairs. Then again, probably not - stairs would be a significant problem.

The stairs _were_ a significant problem. It took Newt and Thomas about ten minutes to get to the third floor because a.) Thomas was drunk and sufficiently dizzy and b.) that was actually the only reason, even though the blond's amusement was not exactly helpful. Once the two of them had managed the last flight of stairs, Newt, still faintly giggling (okay so maybe he WAS his ironic self), made to unlock the door. 

With the open door in front of them, they both grew silent again. Newt cleared his throat. "Do you need help with anything? Or will you be okay?"

Thomas wanted nothing more than to sit down right there and put his head between his knees (and maybe also puke), but he pulled himself together for the sake of appearance. "I'm good. Listen, Newt, I -"

"Thomas?" Brenda suddenly appeared in the hallway, and the brunet was once again hindered from talking in earnest. "What happened?" She seemed genuinely concerned and only noticed Newt after a few seconds. "Oh, hi, sorry, I'm Brenda", she said, extending her hand to the blond, which he shook. "Newt."

Despite the fact that the girl knew that name only too well, she didn't stare, which Thomas gave her credit for. "Nice to meet you."

Newt smiled, not seeming uncomfortable talking to a strange girl in the middle of the night. "Thomas wasn't feeling too well, so I took him home." He looked over at Thomas. "Hey, did you tell your friends you were leaving?", only thinking about that now. Just like Thomas.

"I'll do it", Brenda said, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. Only now he noticed that she was fully dressed - she also must have just come home from going out with her friends. "Hey, I was just about to make some food, do you guys want something? Maybe bacon and eggs or the like?"

Thomas hadn't noticed until now (that was getting a habit, for shuck's sake, he should be more perceptive!) that he was actually hungry. He looked over at Newt, who seemed less certain. "You in?"

"Sure", the blond said, hesitating. If Brenda noticed, she didn't show it. "Come on in, then", she said, grabbing his sleeve. "Love your accent, by the way." She giggled.

Thomas went into the flat last. "Is it okay if I just take a quick shower? I need to clear my head", he half-asked the others.

"Oh yeah, definitely", Brenda said, "Newt can help in the kitchen."

Newt didn't look too convinced about that.

...

After a few minutes of first cold and then warm water running down his body, Thomas felt much more like himself again, albeit a bit unsteady on his feet - but aspirin, water and bacon would do the trick, he was sure. He was less sure of what to wear, but then he settled on sweat pants and a tank top - his usual home wear.

Approaching the kitchen, he saw that Minho had arrived as well. The three of them were sitting around the kitchen table, steaming plates of fried bacon, eggs and tomatoes in front of them.

"So this girl, she can't find her costume, right, and she's in hysterics, and we had to spontaneously find something for her to wear that looked positively like a witch - and in her desperation, she turned to our director and asked if she could borrow her dress! You should have seen her - if looks could kill! Because it was actually a bloody Prada dress!" The other two laughed wholeheartedly at Newt's story, and Thomas couldn't help but feel a tiny bit jealous. The blond had never freely shared stories like that with him.

Walking into the kitchen, he slapped Minho's back, and his Asian friend started. "Son of a biscuit, Thomas, I was worried about you!" He tried to kick at his friend, but Minho was drunk enough to fail.

The brunet took his seat next to Newt, who was watching them, grinning. Surely, the two of them together were a comedy show when sober - this must be the deluxe edition. "Where is Gally?" he asked, tearing into his early breakfast/late dinner.

"Still at the party. With Harriet." Minho smiled. "Hopefully he won't screw it up. God, I want him to be happy."

"We all do", Brenda said, and Thomas nodded.

Brenda and Minho carried the conversation while the brunet inhaled his food and watched Newt. He seemed comfortable enough, listening intently and laughing, sometimes glancing over at Thomas, not quite smiling but also not unfriendly. It was so weird, Thomas thought. He had always wished for something like that to happen, and now, after their fallout, Newt was here at 3 a.m., eating with him and his friends. It was so confusing his head was actually spinning. Or maybe that was the remaining alcohol in his bloodstream.

After they'd finished their meal, they dumped their dishes in the sink, too tired to do them, and the brunet stepped closer to Newt. "Can I talk to you?" he whispered, and the blond nodded, following him into his room.

Thomas wasn't self-conscious about his room despite the fact that it was a bit of a mess - everybody knew that it took a genius to reign over chaos. A full laundry basket and a pile of presents dominated his light wooden floor, the bed was unmade and the shelves could have used a good dusting, but he didn't care. After all, his last exam had taken place not even twenty-four hours before.

The brunet sat on his bed while Newt stood in the middle of the room, looking a bit awkward in his perfect suit while taking everything in. His gaze fell onto the presents, and a sad smile appeared on his face. "Do you still have mine?" he asked very lowly, not looking at Thomas, who, despite his surprise and discomfort managed to get out a "Sure." He didn't add that he hadn't wrapped the three American crime films he had bought for Newt to balance the movie selection on his shelf; they were hidden in the back of his closet so he wouldn't have to look at them.

Thomas took a deep breath. "What are you doing here, Newt?"

Surprised, the blond looked at him. "You called me", he said, bewildered, as if that wasn't perfectly obvious. Well, it wasn't, not to Thomas.

"That's not what I mean. What are you doing _here_ , in my flat, joking around with my friends? What are you doing in my room, asking me if I still have your present? You said goodbye to me, Newt. You ended our... _thing_ , and now you're here, acting as if everything's okay? Honestly, I'm just so confused right now." The brunet looked up his ex-lover and shrugged. 

Newt hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to Thomas. He was silent for quite some time, his posture, despite his immaculate outfit, an image of defeat. "I don't know", he finally said. "Your call caught me off guard and you sounded so hurt and," he looked up from his hands and over at the brunet, "it's not like I don't care, Tommy."

Thomas huffed, even though it felt nice to hear his nickname again. "Yeah, right, you care. I told you that I was in love with you and you left me standing there in the snow as if I'd told you I'd killed someone or something. I begged for you to stay, and you didn't. Is that how much you care?" His voice had unintentionally got a bit louder, but he was just so angry. The hurt from TSI was still so present in his heart he just couldn't be calm when talking about it.

Newt shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I'm sorry for what I've said. But just because I can't be in a relationship with you doesn't mean that I won't help you when you call me in the middle of the night. You've helped _me_ before, remember", he said, his eyes pleading for understanding. But Thomas didn't understand.

"What do you mean, you _can't_ be in a relationship with me? Does that mean you'd _want_ to?" _Now_ they were talking.

The blond sighed in exasperation. "I think I've said it before - I don't do relationships."

"But why not?" Thomas demanded. " _Why not_ , Newt? Why is it so hard for you to commit to someone, even when you clearly want to?" Because he had no doubt after that last hour - Newt liked him more than he let on.

Newt laughed a humourless laugh. "What, Tommy, you want to hear the tragic story of why I don't let people get near me?" Thomas saw how hard the blond clutched his hands. So there _was_ a story. "I don't know", he said, "do you want to share it? Because I think I deserve an explanation."

The other boy looked at him, and his dark eyes mirrored how torn he felt at that very moment. Thomas hated pressuring him into this, seeing how unhappy Newt was, but then again, it wasn't like his situation was all that peachy. And it wasn't like he'd force the words out of him. They looked at each other for a long time as if testing the other. Finally, Newt took a deep breath and looked away. "Alright", he said, and just like that, he started talking.

"You know that my parents are divorced, and that I always had to look out for my baby sister. All of that didn't seem like that big a problem back then because I had my own private piece of happiness. His name was Alby, and we were so in love." A sad smile curved Newt's lips upwards for a moment. "God, I loved him so much. We started dating when we were both 15, and he was perfect. We did everything together, and when my parents' marriage started to crumble, he was my rock. It was so easy with him, and he always made it okay when clearly it wasn't, and he helped me be strong for my sister, and I thought we'd always be together." Newt paused to take a few more deep breaths. Thomas had the terrible feeling that he knew where this was going.

"The Christmas during my last year in school was the first one mum, Sonya and I spent alone. Mum was very sad, and so was Sonya, but I cooked and got DVDs and made them sing carols, and it turned out to be alright, but it was pretty straining for me. So on Christmas Day, I finally got away for an hour to go to Alby's and give him his present. But he wasn't alone." Newt suppressed a sob, and when Thomas looked up from his own hands, he saw that a single tear was running down the blond's cheek. It occurred to him that this must have been the longest entirely serious speech Newt had ever given in his company; it was as if a dam was breaking inside the boy, and nothing could stop the overflow of his feelings.

"Turns out he'd been sleeping with one of our friends for almost a year. Guess it was easy for him to be my shoulder to cry on while he got his sex elsewhere. I never even suspected a thing." Newt drew a rattling breath. "He blamed me. Said I wasn't any fun anymore. And the worst thing was - everybody knew. All my friends had known he'd been cheating on me while my life was falling apart, and not a single one had a shred of fucking decency to tell me." His voice was still strong while more tears were running down his face. He looked up at Thomas, and the hurt was obvious in his dark eyes, even after three years, but the brunet understood - a betrayal like that was nothing you could ever forget. Newt only met his gaze briefly, though, before staring at his own hands again and uttering the unthinkable.

"I tried to kill myself that New Year's Eve. I just couldn't see any way to live through this." He stopped for a moment while Thomas tried to get his bearings. Newt had tried to _kill_ himself. Yes, he had been absolutely destroyed when Teresa had cheated on him, but that had never even once occurred to him. He tried not to lead on how absolutely shocked he was. Newt continued to talk.

"My mum found me and they pumped my stomach in the hospital. Then she sat me down and we had a serious talk about how we both couldn't just give up because someone broke our heart, because Sonya depended on us. So I studied like a lunatic and applied to colleges in the US. Alby and I had made plans, but that wasn't to be, so..." - another sad smile - "I came here. The only real relationships I've had since then are with my mum and my sister. Because people hurt you and cheat on you and tear you apart." His gaze turned hard. "Even friends can't be relied on. That's what I learned the hard way." 

It was silent for a solid minute, and Thomas realised that he was crying as well. All the pain and the heartache were almost tangible in Newt's words. He reached over to take his hand, and the blond didn't fight it.

"I've never told anyone this before", Newt whispered, and Thomas squeezed his hand in thanks. He knew that this meant a lot for the blond.

"I'm so sorry, Newt", Thomas whispered. "I'm so, so sorry someone hurt you like that."

Newt shrugged, squeezing the brunet's hand in response.

"But surely you must know that I would never, _never_ treat you like that!" 

The blond laughed. "I must know that? How, Thomas? I know you're a decent man, but can you swear to me that you'll never break my heart?"

Of course he couldn't. "I can promise that I'll always be honest with you", the brunet said, not answering Newt's exact question.

"That's very noble of you, Tommy, but... I can't. I just can't. It nearly killed me the last time. Who knows if I can survive it a second time?" Newt wiped at his face as if only now noticing the tears that still clung to his eyelashes. "I know that you are smart and kind and funny and bloody beautiful, but I am still not able to let anybody close to me."

Newt thought he was _beautiful_? "I can wait for you, Newt."

The blond smiled in tears. "I can't promise I'll ever be okay, Tommy. I'm broken."

Thomas kneeled down in front of the other boy and took his hands. "Listen. We're all a bit broken inside, but that doesn't mean we can't make it work. A year ago I was beyond miserable, and now I'm ready to open up again to someone. Don't give up hope just now, alright?"

Newt smiled again at him. "You're brilliant, do you know that?"

Thomas smiled. "I know." He got up and, without thinking about it, pressed a kiss onto Newt's forehead. For all his sadness that the blond didn't want to be with him, he was glad that he was opening up. And he could always break down later because he was sure now - he and Newt wouldn't have their happily ever after; they'd maybe establish a friendship at some point, but that was that. He couldn't force the blond to love him, and he couldn't force him to commit when clearly he wasn't ready. And if he was honest, Thomas needed a stable relationship and not to save someone. He had his hands full saving himself.

"Do you want to stay tonight? I could make you a bed on the living room couch. Or..." He didn't finish the sentence about how they could also share a bed.

Newt shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll be okay. Sonya and my mum are coming tomorrow - well, today actually - and I need to tidy the flat a bit." He got up and pulled Thomas into a hug. "Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate you listening to my babbling."

"Don't mention it. I'm happy you'll get to see your family." He hugged him back, and the embrace lasted for almost a minute. A lot of unspoken emotion passed between them. The way Newt was holding on to him showed him that he meant something, that _this_ meant something, and that the blond didn't want to lose the brunet. But that wasn't enough for Thomas. 

Then Newt let go. "I'll see myself out. Goodbye, Tommy. Merry Christmas", he said, and before Thomas could answer, he was gone.

Sitting back down, Thomas put his head in his hands. He was incredibly sad and so, so tired. All hope that Newt and he would end up together was gone, and with it the empowering anger he'd felt at the way he'd been treated. All that was left was sadness - the brunet felt Newt's pain as it wasn't so different from what he had felt when Teresa had cheated on him, and it hurt that the blond didn't think he could ever dare to love again.

Maybe it would all be okay some day. Maybe they'd manage to be friends, maybe Newt would be okay with hanging out at some point, maybe they could deepen their mutual trust. But today was not the day. Today the brunet mourned the future he had lost.

Thomas slipped under the covers, and the bed was still warm where Newt had sat. That, together with everything he'd experienced during the last few hours, brought fresh tears to his eyes, and when he fell asleep half an hour later, his face was still wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand I can hear you complain already :D I just don't want it to be over yet, guys :)  
> Thanks so much for reading, anyway, and your patience with my love for angst. You can shout at me in the comments if you like, or just genuinely share your feelings with me so I'll feel guilty ;) Also, the title is a 1D line :)  
> I hope you stick around to see what happens next because I have a special treat for you... We're switching to Newt's perspective so we can all meet Sonya and know what he thinks and feels - that'll be nice, won't it? ;)  
> Anyway please don't kill me and I'll be back soon :)  
> Loads of love xx


	14. NEWT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's hear what Newt's got to say about all that!

Newt fell onto the couch and let his gaze wander over the living room one last time. He'd been regularly cleaning his flat all week, wanting it to be perfect, and now that the tree was set up, he was all ready for his two girls to arrive. _His two girls._ That sounded adorable and also bloody weird at the same time.

Newt stifled a yawn. He hadn't slept a wink that night. Driving back from... _the flat_ , the blond had come to the conclusion that there was no way he would be able to rest after the conversation he'd had with... Nevermind. So yes, he had put on some music (when did he ever not put on music, though) and spent the rest of his night cleaning up and not thinking about... _Tommy._

Oh God, he was too involved, wasn't he?

He'd known from the start that hooking up with the charismatic brunet could be risky. Thomas was not only handsome and smart and perfect to roll your eyes at and good in bed, but cared about people in an almost child-like, enthusiastic way that was both naive and bloody adorable.

_And Thomas was in love with him._

Newt had spent the last two weeks trying not to think about that. Really, it was just easier to avoid all feelings until they would eventually, sooner or later, just go away. Only now he got the feeling that Thomas wouldn't go away any time soon. He was persistent, and as if that hadn't been enough, he was everywhere. The blond could smell him in his sheets, see him sit on the good armchair in the living room (not literally, he wasn't completely bonkers - yet), feel him next to him in the bed, no matter how often he changed his linen or how many cushions he put onto the armchair. Thomas was haunting this place like those ghastly ghosts in the new Tom Hiddleston film, only that he was infinitely more attractive (than the ghosts - Tom Hiddleston was gorgeous, obviously).

And, worst of all, Thomas cared about him.

It wasn't like Newt didn't care. Obviously. Gosh, the extent of his caring was probably beyond reason. He had driven out in the middle of the night to pick up a completely hammered Thomas a mere few hours ago. But that didn't mean he had to actually confront his feelings. Not thinking about them was simply a much better option. Knowing that the blond cared enough to pick his ex-lover up in the a.m. was terrifying enough. 

Oh no, he was getting thoughtful again. That was the Schumann, definitely - he'd need some Bach or something to lighten the mood. Newt got up and looked around his impeccable living room. He should busy himself. Maybe the shelf could use another dusting? No, it really couldn't. Tommy's shelf could. The blond started to smile, but stopped himself. _Get a grip, Newton_ , he thought, using the long version of his name he actually despised because bloody hell, he wasn't some buggin' salamander!

Newt resolved on checking his groceries again, since that would involve counting stuff and creating a list, which meant both his hands and his mind would be occupied. He had already bought everything for their Christmas dinner the day before, but that didn't mean his sister wouldn't want Lucky Charms or more chocolate on the Christmas tree, so he made a tentative list of what to get to make sure she'd have a perfect Christmas.

The sound of the doorbell disturbed him a few minutes later while he was counting the yogurt pots in his fridge. Slightly perplexed, the blond furrowed his brows. It wasn't like he was expecting anybody. His first thought, and he could have hit himself in the head for it, was that Thomas had come by, but he shook it off immediately. Why would the brunet ring his doorbell at 8 a.m.? He had left him heartbroken a few hours prior. It would have to be Newt to contact him next, and he wasn't sure if he would want that. Well, obviously, he wanted that, but thinking about emotions wasn't an option now. Or ever. No, it was probably just the postman - maybe his dad had sent one of his admittedly awesome Christmas presents again. Brilliant.

Newt strode across the hallway and opened the door to a surprise.

"NEWT!" Sonya shouted, and the next thing he knew was that he was being suffocated in masses of blond hair and his mum's sweet perfume.

"Mum? Sun?" he asked, having not quite grasped that they were here when he was supposed to pick them up from the airport four hours from now. "You're already here?" The blond didn't mean for it to sound rude, so he hugged them more tightly to his chest.

His mum pulled back a bit to grin at him. "Or maybe, we told you a wrong time because we wanted to surprise you." She winked at his little sister, who winked back.

Newt grinned. "You are impossible." They hugged again until the boy began to shiver in the cold staircase. "Let's get you inside, ladies, shall we?"

The two most important women in his life followed him into his flat. As he took their coats, he got a closer look at them. Both of them seemed tired, but happy. His mum was in casual jeans and cardigan, a look she, working as a very successful lawyer in London, almost never sported, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her relatively wrinkle-free face (considering she was already in her later forties, a few laughter lines were quite a good deal). Newt had inherited both his blond hair and big dark eyes from his mum, and she was undoubtedly a beautiful woman. Little Sonya turned out not to be so little anymore; having had a growth spurt since he'd seen her last she was now almost five feet five, but carried herself with a confidence that was rare in twelve year old girls. She, too, looked like her mum, and the way she smiled at seeing her brother again after months of separation made Newt's heart jump with joy.

"Can I have a tour, Newtie?" she asked, linking her arm with his and grinning up at him. "Sure", he answered, roughing up her hair a bit, at which she playfully pretended to bite his hand - an action that made the three of them laugh. Newt showed his visitors his flat - the bedroom he'd prepared for them, the little study, the bathroom, the kitchen ("Lucky Charms would be _brilliant_ , cheers, mate!") and finally the Christmassy living room.

His mum turned in a circle. "I love what you've done to the place, darling", she said, making Newt slightly blush with pride. His mum was a loving mother, especially since she got divorced, but her praise was not to be taken for granted, so when it was uttered, it was always heartfelt.

"Cheers", he said, and he once again looked at the massive dark-wooden shelf holding his books and DVDs, the piano (not thinking about a _certain event_ that had occurred here), the green couch with the pastel-coloured cushions and matching arm-chair and the orange lamp dispersing warm light. Yes, it was definitely cosy.

Sonya was already sitting under the tree. "I love it", she said, and her enthusiasm was so intense she painfully reminded Newt of Thomas. "Are you going to play us carols on Christmas Eve?"

Newt sat down next to her and hugged his little sister. "Definitely, Tiny One."

"Oi, who are you calling tiny?" she protested, swatting at him.

He laughed. "Really? Oi? Mum, what kind of boarding school are you sending her to again?"

Mrs Isaac grinned and sat down in the armchair, thankfully providing Newt with another image of it in its occupied state. "Wycliffe isn't what it used to be, apparently - and she does spend quite a few weekends in London with me or her dad."

_Dad._ Not the best topic to discuss with his mum - best to be over and done with it as soon as possible. "How is he?" Newt asked shyly. 

His mum threw up her hands. "Honestly, son, don't act as if I'd break down in tears when you mention your dad. He's fine. We had dinner a few weeks ago. It was alright." She smiled. "Things were good between us until they weren't anymore and then we split. And dad is very nice to Sonya. Isn't that right, love?" Sonya, still leaning against Newt, shrugged. "He's alright", she said, using the exact same words that his mum had just minute before. The blond couldn't help but giggle.

"What?" His mum and sister both looked at him, frowning. It was almost eerie how much they looked alike.

"Nothing. I just missed you bunch a lot."

"We missed you too", his mother answered, her eyes shining suspiciously. "And now I'd love a nap if you don't mind. I'm exhausted."

...

Newt ended up sharing the couch with his sister who didn't actually want to sleep and was much too antsy to lie still. It was her first time in America, and she wanted to go out and see the city, jumping around on the cushions to rouse her exhausted brother, who would also have needed a nap after his sleepless night.

"Come on, Neeeeeeeewt!" Sonya begged, letting herself fall down next to him. "Let's at least get the groceries. You can get a coffee on the go - you told me about this hipster coffee shop, I wanna see it!"

Brilliant. Tommy's coffee shop was the last place he wanted to go to. "Not today, Sun", he groaned, trying to hide from her under his pillow, but he hadn't taken her insistence into account. Hands at her hips, she towered over him after snatching away his pillow. "Yes, today, Newton", she said, sounding so strict it was actually scary. "I'll be gone in nine days and I intend to see as much as I can. No sleeping for you, sir, you shouldn't have gone out last night."

Newt sat up, astonished. "Who said -"

" _Please._ " His sister held out her hand and rolled her eyes. "The suit in your room smells of bar and you look terrible."

"Thanks, sis." He sighed.

"You're welcome." Sonya was already braiding her hair to tuck it under her enormous green beanie. "Now get your coat and a bag. I've written mum a note for when she wakes up."

The little devil had it all planned out. Newt groaned, but rose to his feet. A quick glance at his watch told him it was just past ten a.m., and there was no way Thomas would be working today - not after the amount of alcohol he'd consumed last night. Today was probably his best bet to show Sonya the coffee shop without meeting Tommy. He should definitely seize the opportunity. Plus, their mum was on her first holiday in ages, and he'd rather she got to start it with a nap than carrying groceries.

"Alright, you little minx", Newt said, "let's get coffee and Lucky Charms."

After putting on their winter clothes, they walked down the street towards the coffee shop. Sonya had a thousand questions - why did he move here? Was it a good neighbourhood? Did he like it here? How far was the way to university? When could she _see_ his university? Did he always walk? - and so he kept busy answering them until they were in front of their destination.

Inside the shop, it was gloriously warm, and Thomas was nowhere to be seen, so Newt immediately relaxed after quickly surveying the room. There was quite a queue in front of the counter, but they weren't in no hurry, so he didn't mind.

"Love the decor", Sonya said, taking off her beanie and throwing her long braid over her shoulder. "Can I get a mocchaccino?"

Newt laughed and looked down at her. "Aren't you a bit young for that?"

Sonya rolled her eyes. " _Please_ , Newt, keep up with the trends. Everybody drinks that at school."

The blond raised his eyebrows. "Well, in that case - you can get whatever you like."

"Ace! Cheers, mate!"

Newt sighed. "Please don't call me mate. This is so stereotypically British I can't even deal with it."

Sonya laughed. "Says the guy driving a mini who has a Union Jack poster in his loo."

Well, she had a point there.

The queue moved forward, and Newt caught sight of Minho, who smiled at him. This simple gesture threw the blond into an abyss of emotions - if Thomas' best friend was smiling at him, did that mean Tommy didn't hate him? Or was it simply that Minho didn't know about their conversation yet? Also, if Minho was here, wasn't it possible for Thomas to show up as well? A wave of anxiety washed over the boy, and he tried to distract himself by teasing his sister, but it didn't really work that well anymore.

And then, obviously, it happened.

"Thomas!" Minho called out, looking over his customers (that guy was _massive_ , no kidding). "Thanks for coming, it's crazy today!"

And there he was. _Tommy_. His hair was a mess, there were dark rings under his eyes, but he was still the most handsome guy Newt had ever been involved with. He rounded the counter, shrugged off his coat and got himself one of those ridiculous cream-coloured aprons before turning to his first customer. And just like that, the happy smile was back on Thomas' face, like there was no place he'd rather be than a busy coffee shop two days before Christmas or nothing he'd rather do than hand hot beverages to strangers. This enthusiasm to be helpful was such an attractive quality it actually took Newt's breath away.

"Did you even listen to what I said?" Sonya complained, and the blond snapped out of his trance. "Wh- sorry, love", he said, not even pretending to know what she was on about.

His sister eyed him suspiciously and her eyebrows disappeared into her fringe. "Do you fancy that lad?" she asked in a whisper. Newt felt himself blush - it was astonishing how well his baby sister could read him. "No!" he said, his voice full of disbelief as if her suggestion couldn't be further from the truth. But Sonya wasn't fooled.

"I see", she said slowly, in a way that let Newt know that she did indeed see - right through him.

They moved forward in the line, and when they finally stood in front of the counter, it was obvious that Thomas had been much too focused on his work to see who had been waiting to be served by him.

"Hel- Oh. Hi, Newt", he said, his tired, pale face turning an even paler shade. Newt couldn't help but think of the healthy blush that had coloured his cheeks whenever he'd been in his arms, and his heart ached with desire. Thomas' eyes were not unlike his own, and right now, they betrayed exactly how much last night had hurt him, even though his lips were smiling. He wasn't even half as good an actor as himself, Newt noticed.

However, Thomas was quick to pull himself together. "You must be Sonya", he said, addressing his sister with a charming smile that he normally reserved for Newt. "I've heard a lot about you."

Sonya smiled at him flirtatiously (where did she even learn that? Gosh, the kids in this day and age...). "Obviously. I'm fabulous."

Thomas laughed a genuine laugh, and a quick glance at Sonya told Newt that Tommy was sold. If he wouldn't date him, his sister would. "Can I get a medium mocchaccino?"

"Isn't 12 a bit young for coffee?" the brunet asked, looking over at Newt. "Big cappuccino, I guess?" he said more quietly, smiling a tiny smile that again betrayed his actual feelings.

"Oi, how do you know my age?" Sonya looked from Thomas to Newt and back. "You guys really _do_ know each other, don't you?"

Newt felt himself blush, and Thomas looked just as uncomfortable, so he distracted himself chastising his sister. "Don't say 'oi', Sonya, you're not London filth. Police, I mean." All this Britishness was making his slang reappear. "It's okay, Tommy, she's allowed to have a medium one."

"Alright", the brunet answered and made to prepare their drinks. Newt looked at Sonya to see her mouth _TOMMY?!_ at him, her eyes wild, and he knew he was in trouble.

"There you go", Thomas finally said, sliding their drinks over to them and handing Newt his change, which he slid into the tip jar. "Merry Christmas, I guess?" he said, sounding so uncertain it was heart-wrenching.

"Don't worry, if I like your coffee, I'll make him take me here again tomorrow", Sonya said, smiling sweetly at Thomas, who smiled knowingly and turned to Newt. "She really _is_ your sister." The blond knew he was thinking of their first encounter, as was he. It seemed so long ago, but it was actually just two months. Two months full of sex, getting to know that handsome stranger while trying to keep away from him - and two months full of good coffee. Newt smiled back. "She is."

"Well", Thomas said, wiping his hands on his apron. "See you tomorrow, then. Enjoy your drink, Sonya!"

"Thanks, Thomas. Bye", she said, and turned around to leave. Newt's eyes found Thomas', and they shared another glance before the brunet looked down and took a deep breath.

Dear God, this boy would be the death of him.

Outside the coffee shop, Sonya immediately turned to her brother. "Denying it is futile. Tell me all about him. Is he your affair, your boyfriend or your ex-boyfriend? And don't lie to me. I know a couple when I see one."

Newt sighed. "None of the above, Sonya. Can you just let it go? I really don't want to talk about it."

Sonya, as usual, ignored him. "God, those doe eyes. He really likes you, it's so obvious!" She giggled. "How cute."

The blond grabbed his sister's sleeve. "Seriously, Sonya, can we _not_ talk about him?" His voice was almost pleading, and the girl's eyes turned wide.

"God, I'm so sorry, Newt. I didn't know it was... Are you sad again?" _Sad._ That was the word his mum had used when he'd been suicidal a few years prior. _It's okay, Sonya. Newt is sad, like I was when daddy left. He'll be okay_ his mother would tell his sister, and the little one would nod earnestly and bring him a slice of cake.

Newt shook his head. "No, not like that. But ever since I was... _Sad_ , it's kind of hard for me to open up to new people, you know? And Thomas is a bit disappointed by that." Literally the understatement of the year.

His sister seemed to contemplate that for a moment. "If he really likes you, he'll wait", she finally said, and the statement touched Newt deeply, because he suddenly realised - that was exactly what he was hoping for. That Thomas would wait for him. That he would help him find his way back into trusting a partner. It felt like an epiphany - he wanted to be with the brunet. Of course he did. Maybe he had all along, but surely since Thomas had nursed him back to health, taking care of him. Sure, he had trust issues and didn't want to admit that even he needed help sometimes, but Newt hadn't felt more alive in years than when he'd been with Thomas. Even now, the mere minutes of seeing him filled him with a joy that was hard to explain.

God, he was in love with Thomas. He'd denied it for weeks now, and all it took was a well-phrased statement from a person who really knew him to break the chains.

Newt was _in love. With Tommy._

The thought terrified him. He wasn't ready. Or was he? Would this really change so much about their relationship?

It would. Now that Newt knew he had feelings for the other boy, he'd see it all in a different light.

Plus, he'd told Thomas just a few hours ago that he was broken beyond repair and not able to have a relationship with him. He couldn't go back.

What a perfect mess.

"Newt? Are you still in there?" His sister interrupted his thoughts by knocking against his forehead.

"Sure", he said, trying a smile while his heart was in turmoil. "Let's get you those Lucky Charms, tiny one."

"Oi, who are you calling tiny?"

...

Newt buried his newly discovered feelings deep in his heart for the rest of the day, which was spent cooking with his family, playing board games, watching a Christmas film and taking a stroll in the snow. Since they were all tired from jetlag and heartbreak, though, they called it an early night, and Newt settled on the living room couch.

But sleep wouldn't come. He couldn't help his feelings surfacing in the darkness. 

Thomas might have been the one to put his heart back together. And he'd shut him out on principle, unable to open up after all that had happened to him. But now he knew that he actually wanted to try it, he couldn't. Thomas wouldn't put his heart on the line like that, not knowing whether Newt could go through with it; God knew the poor brunet had suffered enough.

The living room door creaked open, and when Newt looked up, he saw his mother sneak inside. She smiled when she saw that he was still awake and closed the door again so they were again engulfed in darkness. His mum tapped over to the couch and sat down at the edge.

"Are you okay, honey?" she whispered, and it was obvious from the way she asked that Sonya had told her about Thomas. And that's when Newt broke down.

He started to cry, a desperate wail tearing through his chest, which made his mother jump before she lay down next to him and pulled her son close to hold him. Newt towered his mum, being almost a foot taller than her, but in that moment, rolled up in foetal position, he felt like a small child in need of his mother. She didn't shush him, just held him, stroking his hair and muttering comforting, meaningless words. His tears soaked the shoulder of her pyjama shirt, but if she minded, she didn't say it.

When Newt's sobs became quieter, his mum pressed a kiss to his forehead. "My poor boy", she whispered, "it's okay."

"It's not okay", Newt protested, probably sounding like a fiveyearold. "I messed up, mum. He told me he loved me and I said I wasn't ready and now I-" He started to sob again.

"Listen to me, Newt", his mum said, her voice gentle but firm. "Love isn't all peachy. It isn't _all of bloody you loves all of me_. It's much messier than those cheesy pop songs tell you. It's _God this is terrifying and I can't stand some of your character traits, but I will try because you might just be worth it_. We both know what it's like to lose someone we love because they didn't love us anymore. But Newt, you have to start seeing the positive things. I know your relationship was amazing before it turned bad, and so was mine. Bloody hell, look at my brilliant children!" She squeezed him tight, and Newt hiccupped a laugh. "You and that boy might not last forever, honey. But then again, what is forever? Life isn't. And the way you were crying just now tells me that he might be worth a possible heartbreak. Or am I wrong?"

Newt thought of Tommy - his smile, the way he'd tenderly stroked his back when the blond had been an ill mess, the way he listened to him break down the previous night. A shy smile appeared on his face. "No, mum. I think you're exactly right."

"So tell him. If he's really that special, he will understand. And if not - well, you've lost nothing you have now except the insecurity about what might be."

Newt pondered that for a moment. He could live on with his uncertainty or just confront Thomas - the sooner, the better.

He pulled back and leaned onto his elbow, wiping away the last of his tears. "You're right, mum. I'll tell him tomorrow. And if he doesn't want me anymore - well, I have you girls here, and I'll get through it."

His mum's smile was even bright enough to be visible in the darkness. "That's my boy."

They stayed on the couch together for a bit longer until the door opened again and light brightened the room. A sleepy Sonya blinked at them. "Mummy? Is Newtie sad?"

Their mum sat up and extended her arms. "Come here, love. Newt is fine, he just needed a bit of his mum." The little girl hopped onto the couch and cuddled up next to them. "That's good", she said, "because I need you healthy so you can take me back to the coffee shop tomorrow. That drink was delicious!"

Newt smiled down at his baby sister. "I'm sorry, Sonya, but I need to go alone tomorrow. I'm on a mission." Because he'd made up his mind - he would confront Thomas the following day and offer him his heart. Whatever the consequences.

Sonya yawned. "Whatever. I'm going back to bed." She looked at her mum. "Coming?"

Mrs Isaac nodded. She bent down to kiss Newt's cheek. "Good night, love", she said, and after Sonya had kissed him as well, they left for his bedroom and the blond was alone again. 

He felt at peace all of a sudden. Because it was decided: no matter what happened tomorrow - twenty-four hours from now all the insecurity about his and Tommy's feelings would be over. Tomorrow, he'd ask him to be his boyfriend.

Sleep couldn't have been further from Newt's mind, but exhaustion got the better of him soon afterwards, and he fell asleep to the fantasy of Tommy lying next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey babes,   
> I'm back with another chapter and I hope you liked it! You deserve nice things after all the angst I put you through :)  
> Thanks so much for reading this and sticking with me and for all your kudos and comments, you are amazing <3  
> Please share your feels with me - what do you think about Newt?  
> Loads of love and I'll be back soon with THE CONFRONTATION ;)  
> xx Vero


	15. Missing More Than Just Your Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt confesses his love for Thomas, and Thomas is shocked.

It was December 24th, and Thomas was so ready to go home.

His shift would be over at noon, less than an hour away, and still people were queuing endlessly in front of the counter. Seriously, why did everybody need coffee today? As hard as he was trying, his smile wouldn't come as easily today. He was tired and annoyed and yes, he was disappointed.

Disappointed that Newt hadn't shown up yet.

The blond had seemed so shy the day before. Did he regret being so open to Thomas in the Night of Weirdness (so yeah, maybe the brunet had a thing for naming events, so what)? That would have been understandable, even though there was no need to be embarrassed as far as Thomas was concerned. The brunet didn't want things to be even weirder between him and the boy who'd dumped him, who he'd then called and who had told him his tragic backstory at 3 a.m. after breakfast with his flatmates. Wow, that sentence though? His life should be a shucking soap opera.

At least Thomas and Jeff were all right. The brunet had walked by his house the evening before and just caught his ex-lover having his first meal of the day.

_"Thomas. Hi." Jeff leaned against the doorframe. He seemed a bit astonished at seeing the brunet (and plenty hung-over), but not angry or annoyed._

_"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Thomas smiled shyly, and after looking at him for a few seconds, Jeff nodded. "Sure. Come in."_

_Thomas and he sat down at the kitchen table while Jeff gobbled up toasted cheese sandwiches - the brunet was offered one as well, which he accepted. Jeff's flat was still familiar to him in all its simplicity, and a lot of (kinky) memories came back to him. Speaking of kinky -_

_"About last night, Jeff", Thomas began, "I'm very sorry. I'm... Not in the best place at the moment. Again. And I'm sorry you kind of again... Happened to be there. I like you and I hate using you like this. I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry." He looked at his sandwich, stopping himself because he knew he was babbling._

_He only looked up when Jeff's hand came into view, reaching for his. "Hey."_

_Thomas looked up and met Jeff's eyes, which still held their kind expression. "It's okay, Thomas. We were both hammered. We made out. It's fine, nobody got hurt." He didn't mention the fact that they'd almost screwed in the locker room, so the brunet sure as hell wouldn't bring it up, either._

_"Really?" he searched Jeff's eyes for any signs of deception, but he seemed sincere._

_"Really. It's not like I didn't know what I was doing - or how you felt. If anything, I should apologise. And I_ am _sorry." He seemed down himself._

_On a spontaneous impulse, Thomas got up. "Let's hug it out."_

_Jeff seemed a bit bewildered, but got up as well and hugged the brunet. It felt a bit awkward, but also good, to feel the tension disappear into thin air. And after a short embrace, the two boys let go of each other and got back in their seats, smiling. "And now, Thomas", Jeff said, picking up his sandwich again, "tell me how we'll get you back together with that miracle boy."_

They'd sat together for another hour, and Thomas had told him everything about Newt, and Jeff had agreed that he sounded awesome and that he should just give him time. The brunet was thrilled after having seen the blond earlier that day with his sister - Sonya was obviously the coolest kid he'd ever. Having no siblings himself, he'd have loved to get to know her better. Jeff felt his positivity and reinforced these emotions by making him believe that it all could end well. It was funny that his ex-lover turned out to be quite a good friend, actually.

But Newt hadn't shown up again, Thomas' positivity was gone and now his shift was almost over.

The brunet took a deep breath and turned to the back area to take a sip of coffee himself. Tomorrow morning he would take the one-hour train ride to his parents' house, and tonight he would enjoy cooking a nice Christmas dinner with his friends. And everything would be okay. He just had to make it until noon.

Thomas turned back to the counter to meet another customer's wishes.

And froze.

There he was. Newt. He was alone, and he looked more gorgeous than ever, with his awesome coat and his incredible eyes and his flushed cheeks and his cherry lips and his hair perfectly tousled and - well, he was just really gorgeous.

More so, he was holding a bouquet of easily twenty beautiful red roses and a parcel wrapped in dark blue paper decorated with snowflakes (this tiny detail was what the brunet focussed on, weirdly enough).

Thomas just stared.

"Hello, Tommy", Newt said. His voice was calm, and he was blushing slightly, seemingly excited. This sight alone was worth all the heartbreak Thomas had experienced during the last forty-eight hours. Newt was here, and he was carrying roses. Were they for him?

Thomas couldn't think.

Newt blushed more deeply. "Minho said you could go home half an hour early, and I thought I might pick you up for lunch? Sonya's cooking."

 _Pick you up. Lunch. Sonya's cooking._ It didn't make any sense.

"What - what are you doing here, Newt?" he stuttered, not sure of what was unfolding before his eyes. By now, all the customers had grown quiet, watching, and Minho and Chuck were staring as well.

Newt took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "Thomas Edison, I am sorry for pushing you away. You were right about me the whole time. I'm crazy about you. I'm in love with you, and I'm ready to jump. If you will still have me, that is."

Thomas was faintly aware of the fact that a few people awwwed, but he was too busy freaking out. This was all he'd ever wanted. Newt was here, apologising, ready to start a relationship with him. Was it even real?

He gaped at the blond. "Are you... Are you serious?"

Newt nodded, his chin set in an adorably earnest way. "Completely. You're bloody brilliant, Tommy, and I'm sorry it took me so long to realise that. Can you forgive me?"

Thomas knew he had about five seconds to come up with an answer before it got awkward, so he tried weighing the pros and cons in his head.

Cons: Potential mess and heartbreak.

Pros: Newt was here, delivering the grand gesture he'd always wanted. He was in love with him, and oh God, this was Newt - handsome, cocky, clever, musical, sexy, funny, British Newt. And he wanted to be with him, Thomas.

It wasn't much of a question, really.

Without further ado, Thomas rounded the counter, approached his boyfriend-to-be and kissed him.

He was dimly aware of people cheering and clapping, but all that mattered was right in front of him. Newt smelled like he always did, and his lips tasted like they always had, and he put his hands on his cheeks to pull the blond closer. Briefly, Newt broke the kiss and shoved the roses and parcel into the hands of a girl waiting behind him, and Thomas saw that his eyes were shining with tears of happiness before he pulled him closer once more to embrace him and kiss him.

More cheering and clapping sounded, loud enough to block out the cheesy Christmas tune playing on the radio. _...this year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special..._ God it was almost too much, but then again, Thomas thought, he deserved his happy ending after all that he'd been through.

After the clapping subsided, Thomas broke the kiss and grabbed Newt's hand. "Let's get out of here", he said, smiling at his new boyfriend. _Boyfriend._ That sounded so _good_.

Newt nodded, turning around to the girl to get back the flowers and present. "Thank you for assisting me", he said to her, and the cute redhead blushed at his smile and British accent. Thomas smiled. _What a charmer my boy is._ He turned around to Minho. "Is it really okay if I leave?"

Minho smiled and nodded. "Sure thing, bro. You go be happy. Cooking starts at 4:30 sharp, so make sure you're back by then, or not even I will be able to protect you from my girl's wrath."

Thomas grinned. "You're the best!" And turning back to Newt and taking the flowers from him, they left the coffee shop.

Outside in the cold, Thomas started giggling. "I can't believe you actually did that! What did you do, watch 80s flicks for inspiration?"

Newt grinned, his cheeks flushed from the cold. "I just thought - what would my Tommy love? And that's what I figured you'd love." 

The brunet pressed a peck on the blond's cheek. "And you were right." They smiled at each other. "Thank you."

Newt shook his head. "No, thank you, Tommy. Thank you for not giving up on me. I know I'm late to the party of seeing us as a couple. But I intend to stay for as long as you let me."

Thomas' eyes were in danger of watering up as well, so he quickly pointed at the roses. "Let's get those babies into the warmth. What's the plan?"

The blond nodded and smiled. "My place, as I said. Sonya's cooking."

...

Thomas hadn't actually believed it, but when they arrived at Newt's flat ten minutes later, he found Sonya in the kitchen, checking on what she explained him to be Shepherd's Pie before she pulled him into a hug and, when he tried to politely let go of her, crossed her ankles behind his waist like a little monkey.

"I'm so happy you're Newt's boyfriend now!" she kept shouting over his laughter until Newt came to his rescue and pulled the little hurricane off him. "Please, Sonya, don't kill him on instant, I might need him." He winked at Thomas, who blushed.

Sonya, standing upright again, started jumping up and down like a rubber ball. "Can you pleeeeease come to London this summer, Thomas? Newt hasn't been home for over a year and that would be so _brilliant_."

Thomas felt a bit overwhelmed by it all, and just then, Mrs Isaac came into the kitchen to save him. "That's enough, Sonya, you'll send the poor lad running for his life before pudding if you go on like that." She was a beautiful woman, looking like a female version of his boyfriend, and her smile was warm and joyful. "Hello, Thomas, I'm Newt's mum. Please call me Beth."

The brunet felt himself blushing once more at the warm welcome. "Hello Beth, it's so nice to meet you."

Newt's mother didn't let go of his hand but turned around to look at her son. "He is delightful, honey. Well done."

Thomas' blush deepened, and he was happy to be asked to sit down for lunch by Newt soon afterwards - all this fascination with him was getting a bit weird.

Not that it stopped throughout lunch. Sonya bombarded him with questions, Newt tried to shut her up and Mrs Isaac tried to keep the peace, so between stuffing his face with the delightful pastry, he was mostly trying not to choke to death laughing.

It was almost eerie how much he felt at home. Newt was still his own sarcastic self that Thomas loved so much, but he was a loving son and very attentive, always seeing that his boyfriend had enough to eat, making eye contact to check up on him, touching him. It was perfect.

Dessert, or "pudding", as Sonya insisted on calling it even though it wasn't one, was a delicious chocolate cake, which turned out to have been made by Newt this morning. "I had to keep myself busy until eleven", he explained, his smile sarcastic, "and that's what domestic men like me do in such situations."

Thomas couldn't help but laugh. "You? Domestic? Good one!"

Newt grinned. "You're right. You're going to have to be the one making my cinnamon French toast."

"Good that."

...

After lunch, Sonya wanted to go sightseeing, but Thomas longed to be alone with Newt. He longed to talk about what had changed the blond's mind and to kiss him and feel his skin against his own. Only he didn't quite know how to tell Sonya "no" yet.

Luckily, her mother knew.

"I'm taking you to the Christmas market", Beth said forcefully. "The boys need a bit of alone time."

"But muuuuum!" The girl crossed her arms and pouted.

Said muuuuum smiled at her daughter. "Didn't you say something about buying a Christmas present for Thomas?"

The little one's eyes lit up. "I'm getting my jacket!"

The three of them laughed, and after more hugs and a few heartily "merry Christmas", mother and daughter left the flat.

After the door had fallen shut, Thomas looked over at Newt, who was leaning against the wall in a way that was simultaneously sassy and sexy. "Actually, my flat is empty as well", he said, "and I would very much like to make better memories with you in my room." The smile on his lips felt seductive, and Newt's eyes blazed as well. "Then let's go there and I'll give you a kiss for every tear either of us has spilt there."

That sounded like a plan.

So the two boys got their coats and Thomas' still unopened present and flowers and took a brisk walk towards the brunet's flat. He was nervous. Neither of them had talked actual business yet, and he didn't want to start a discussion in the middle of the street, so he would have to wait for the privacy of his home.

They weren't talking much, but their fingers were intertwined and although Newt seemed a bit nervous, Thomas was aware of how incredibly well he was doing. He was trying this for both their sakes, and Thomas couldn't help but adore him for it.

Once they were in the flat and in Thomas' room with the roses in a vase, Newt pushed the present into his lap. "Open it!" he said, sitting down on the bed cross-legged, his eyes sparkling.

"Now?" Thomas asked, slowly sinking down onto the edge of his bed. "Shouldn't I wait til -"

"No, please, I wanna see!" Newt begged, and really, who was he to deny the blond a wish? So he turned to the parcel and tore off the paper. Inside was a box with eight different British crime films. "I thought that should keep us busy for our next few movie nights", Newt said, and Thomas looked up to see him smile insecurely. He couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Newt asked, furrowing his eyebrows, obviously asking himself if he'd done something wrong. Without a word, Thomas got up and walked over to his wardrobe to retrieve the present he'd hidden there almost two weeks ago. He handed it to Newt. "You'll see."

Newt looked at him quizzically for a few seconds, but then opened the present and found the American movies. He started laughing, too - a loud, genuine, happy laughter that Thomas immediately decided he loved more than anything and he would give everything to hear again. "Well, this is awkward", the blond said, giggling.

"Or it means we're perfect for each other", Thomas said, crawling onto the bed next to Newt and taking his hand.

"Either that or we're both addicted to movies."

The brunet smiled and leaned in to kiss his new boyfriend, and Newt immediately responded, leaning in as well. They shared a slow, gentle kiss that made Thomas forget his body consisted of anything but lips. Well, not entirely.

"My boyfriend", Newt whispered shortly afterwards, putting his forehead to Thomas'. They shared a happy smile.

"Just so you know, I won't pick you up from work with roses every single day."

"Just so you know, I don't mind."

"Only on Mondays." Newt winked.

Thomas grinned. "I can live with that."

The blond drew back a bit. "I can't promise you I'll be the perfect boyfriend. I still have a problem with people helping me and I'll still need time to myself."

Thomas snorted. "Please. When have you ever not been like that? And did it stop me from falling for you?"

Newt shrugged. "Well, I _am_ very attractive."

The brunet rolled his eyes at so much silliness. "You _know_ it's not just that."

His boyfriend giggled. "Do you need me, do you think I'm pretty..." he sang, and Thomas quickly leaned forward and sealed his lips with a kiss.

"I don't think you're pretty, I think you're breath-taking", he whispered in a rough voice, "and I need you so much I don't have words for it."

"Then let's get you what you need", Newt said lowly and kissed him, pressing him down onto the bed. In a matter of seconds, they were a mess of tangled limbs, their arms wrapped around each other's bodies, Newt's leg around Thomas' waist, and they were kissing so fiercely as if their life depended on it.

Abruptly, Newt drew back. "Stop!" he said, trying to catch his breath. Thomas looked at him, confused. "What?" Didn't the blond like what they were doing?

Newt swiped a stray strand of hay-coloured hair out of his eyes. "We've fucked so many times", he explained, "but now, I want you to make love to me. As if it's our first time." He blushed a bit when Thomas grinned. "Hey, I never said I wasn't a romantic!"

The brunet pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Okay", he whispered, and kissed his boyfriend once more, softly, his hands on his cheeks, before letting them fall to his shoulders, slide along his arms, down his chest, as if he were mapping the blond's body. He started unbuttoning Newt's shirt, all the while kissing him, and Newt moaned into the kiss when Thomas' hands touched the bare skin of his chest.

Thomas took his time admiring the blond's physique before pulling off his own t-shirt and lying down next to him again. He started kissing his neck, his chest, all the while stroking his back softly, and Newt's little sound of pleasure were so much better than the moans he had elicited from him in hasty hook-ups. The brunet felt his jeans grow tighter, but he wanted to take his time, kissing his boyfriend once more with the perfect mixture of passion and gentleness. When he returned to his chest to play with his nipples a little bit longer, Newt's feverish eyes closed, and he whispered Thomas' name in a way that made him shiver.

"Can you take off my trousers?" Newt asked, his voice strained, and Thomas let his gaze fall to his boyfriend's obvious erection. He didn't trust his own voice, so he just nodded, quickly pulling off Newt's and then his own pants before taking Newt into his arms once more. They were both only in briefs now, and when Newt moved his hips, their erections rubbed against each other and Thomas couldn't help a low moan escape his throat - it was too much and at the same time not enough.

"Tommy..." Newt whispered in his ear and bit his earlobe, and the brunet thought he might explode. "I want to feel you inside of me", he continued, and Thomas thought he might just come then and there from hearing his boyfriend say that simple sentence. He let his hand wander down Newt's back to grab his butt, and the blond moaned. "Top drawer", Thomas sad, and Newt, despite being lost in passion, immediately understood and handed his boyfriend lube and a condom before turning onto his stomach.

Thomas lost his own briefs and then drew down Newt's to have perfect access to his ass. Pouring lube onto his index finger, he made sure it was all wet before he started rubbing it over his boyfriend's entrance, relaxing the muscle. Newt started moaning in a way that was practically pornographic, and Thomas took that as encouragement to let his finger dive into his tight heat.

"Oh Tommy", Newt moaned, wiggling under him. The brunet started kissing his lower back. "You're doing so well, baby, taking it so well", he whispered, and the blond answered with more moaning. 

Shortly afterwards, Thomas added a second finger in search of Newt's prostate, and an actual little _scream_ of pleasure told him he'd found it in a matter of seconds. He leaned forward.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked, his breath tickling Newt's ear as he kissed his neck. He had never wanted to please anyone as he wanted to please his boyfriend in that moment, and he'd also never wanted anyone the way he wanted him right now.

"Yes! Yes!" Newt gasped, unable to hold still. "I'm ready, please, Tommy, please!"

The brunet decided to torture his boyfriend a bit longer, adding a third finger for good measure before pulling all of them out - at which Newt protested, but only briefly.

"Can I?" he asked, sitting up slowly and reaching for the condom. Thomas nodded - he was painfully hard by now, and when Newt started rolling the condom over his dick, he thought he might actually pass out. He made it, though, and his boyfriend slicked him up with plenty of lube before pressing him into the mattress. "Allow me", Newt said in a mock-posh voice, and got up to straddle Thomas and let himself sink down on his erection.

They both moaned when they connected, and when Thomas had bottomed out, he caught Newt in his arms and flipped them so they were both lying on their sides.

"Very democratic, Tommy", the blond joked, and Thomas knew it was time to take his breath away by starting to thrust; so he did.

Newt's moans were low and long in the beginning, but soon the brunet couldn't hold back any more and his thrusts grew harder and quicker, and his boyfriend's cries of pleasure grew louder. "Oh yes, right there, Tommy, oh my God, Tommy!"

It was like always, and it was also totally new. Thomas held Newt in his arms, and Newt held Thomas, and their newly-growing love was mixing with their well-known passion.

"Oh God, Newt, I love you", the brunet groaned at some point, as his thrusts grew frantic and he knew he couldn't go on much longer.

"I love you, Tommy, God, I love you!" And with that, Thomas came with a last powerful thrust that cause Newt's orgasm to hit as well, causing them to come almost simultaneously, which was weirdly cheesy, even for Thomas' standards, but also shucking beautiful.

They held each other afterwards, sweaty and tired and blissfully happy. Thomas could hear the rain over their heavy breathing as it was quietly drumming against the windows. He briefly thought about how sad it was that maybe Christmas wouldn't be white after all. But then he looked at Newt in his arms and didn't care about something as trivial as the weather.

"That was bloody brilliant", Newt sighed, and Thomas could only nod tiredly and put his head to his boyfriend's neck. It was peaceful and quiet for a few seconds, the rain and their breathing a sweet lullaby, and the brunet could feel himself drifting off to sleep when -

"THOMAS IF YOU'RE DONE IN THERE COME AND HELP WITH THE POTATOES!"

Brenda. How subtle.

"Christ, I forgot the Christmas dinner!" Thomas sat up quickly. "I'm so sorry, babe!"

Newt giggled. "No worries, lad, it's not like I don't have a dinner to help with. But your roommates really aren't the most... discreet people, are they?"

Thomas blushed. "No. I'm sorry. But if it bothers you -"

"Naw." Newt smiled and pressed a kiss to Thomas' cheek. "I think I can get used to it. Or they will. Either way - I'm here to stay."

And to Thomas, that was the only thing that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. You wanted fluff - here it is :D  
> Hi guys, nice to see you again!! I hope you liked this chapter - if you did, please share your feels with me in the comments :)  
> I know I'm a bit early updating but I'm going on holiday tomorrow and I didn't know about wifi in our hotel so better early than late, I figured :)  
> We have one more chapter to go, so make sure to check it out :) After that, I'll be straight on to a new Newtmas story, this time around a bit less angst and more fun :)  
> The title is of course a line from "Sorry" and what can I say - it's just always on the radio :D  
> Ok so loads of love and see you soon, guys! xx


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because we need some more fluff.

Thomas was preparing a vanilla latte when he heard the door bell that went along with the door to the coffee shop being opened and saw Newt come in, raising a hand in what the blond thought was a cool sort of wave and what the brunet thought to be adorable. Newt made his way over and, when Thomas' customer had retrieved her coffee, bent down to kiss his boyfriend over the counter. There were raindrops glistening in his blond hair, and his cheeks were flushed from the chilly autumn air. "Hi Tommy", he greeted his boyfriend, handing him a few coins, "Can I get a medium hot chocolate?"

Thomas grinned. "Sure thing, babe. How's the essay going?" He turned around to prepare the drink, but inclined his head backwards to signal Newt that he was still listening.

"Pretty good, I suppose", Newt answered, drumming his fingers on the counter. "I finished the first draft and I won't look at it for at least 24 hours. And now I'll read my texts for history of music" he said, drawing a folder from his bag and putting it down on the table closest to the counter.

This had become a sort of ritual for them. Whenever Thomas was working and they had a date afterwards, Newt would come early and study in the shop if he could. Right now, the blond was almost an hour early for the end of his boyfriend's shift, but it was a rainy Saturday, and in the early evening hours, not many people wanted to drink coffee, so the place was quiet enough for Newt to read his notes, and Thomas enjoyed his company, even if they weren't talking.

They had been together for almost ten months now, and Thomas couldn't have been happier. Despite predicting he'd be a difficult boyfriend, Newt actually wasn't. They obviously had the occasional disagreement or small fight, and sometimes they couldn't stop bickering like an old married couple, but the blond was trying his best to communicate his wishes, for example when he needed alone time, and the brunet did his best to give Newt his room and support him when he was stressed by his musical engagements. By now they were so used to sleeping next to each other that they spent almost every night together; at first, Newt had been reluctant to regularly stay at Thomas' flat as it was always full of people now that Gally was dating Harriet (which made Thomas and Minho almost happier than Gally himself). However, the blond had quickly grown accustomed to the omnipresence of his boyfriend's friends, who were practically his now, too. He got along especially well with Brenda, whom he could have little sass-battles with, which made Minho like him a lot, too. Since all of them had girlfriends (or boyfriends) now, the three flatmates had agreed to have weekly flat-nights, either with their partners or without them, to ensure they didn't lose touch, and tonight was gonna be another one of those - probably with games or movies, Gally was cooking. 

Thomas checked the clock - not long until closing time now. He glanced over at his boyfriend again. Newt was so beautiful when he was focusing - strands of hair were falling into his face as he played with them, and his brows were furrowed with concentration. He had a habit of pressing his index finger to his lower lip when reading, which, even though it was unintentional, made him look like a puzzled child. The brunet smiled. It was unbelievable how much he loved this boy.

His phone buzzed with a text, and reading it, he saw it was from his mum. _Next weekend it is! Is Newt coming? :)_ Grinning, he thought how he wasn't the only Edison who had a crush on the blond. Even though his dad had been very confused about why his son, after dating a girl for years, was now with a boy ("What a time to be alive!"), Mrs Edison had embraced Newt immediately with the love of a mother, and now whenever Thomas went home for the weekend, the blond was explicitly invited to come along. This made him feel better about the fact that he had visited Newt's family with him in London this summer and hadn't paid anything for the flight or the food. It had been the source of several fights between the couple - "I am not poor, Newt!" - "Nobody said that, my mum is just trying to be nice!" - but had ended with three beautiful weeks in a rainy but brilliant European city with his boyfriend and his adorable family.

"Babe, do you wanna come along to my parents' next week?" Thomas asked, looking up from his phone to meet Newt's gaze. The blond smiled at him. "I'd like that. Yes, please!" Then there was something else in his face - was it guilt? "I also wanted to talk to you about Christmas..."

"Christmas?" Thomas frowned - the holiday was more than two months away. He walked over to Newt's table as to not to have to shout and make the three customers that hung around the back listen to their private conversation. "What about it?" he asked, sitting down and touching Newt's knee.

The blond played with his highlighter. "Well, my mum called last night and wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas in England? Because I'd love to go, I haven't been there for Christmas in more than 2 years, but if you don't want to, I can stay here." Newt didn't look at him, and Thomas knew he was fighting an inner battle between following his own wishes and trying to be the inclusive boyfriend he wanted to be. Thomas was actually very proud of him for it. He brunet sighed.

"Can I pay for my own flight?"

Newt looked up, grinning. "I don't think so, but we can make it mum's Christmas present to you if that makes you feel better."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Just like the last one was my birthday present?"

"Precisely."

Thomas sighed again. "You know I don't like her spending money on me." It made him feel inadequate - but he didn't say that out loud.

His boyfriend took his hand. "Oh, Tommy, don't be like that. Once you're a rich doctor, we will need your money to put her into a nice retirement home."

The brunet laughed. "You're nasty, do you know that?"

"Yes." Newt smiled brightly. "But will you come? Please?"

Thomas thought for a second. "Maybe we can give her and Sonya musical tickets for Christmas?" he said by way of agreeing, and Newt, having won the battle, hugged him fiercely. "I love you", he whispered in his ear, and Thomas had goose bumps, even after all these months of hearing these words - it was never enough.

"Don't be too happy just now", Thomas said, "because I'm making you tell my parents."

Newt grinned and released his boyfriend so he could get back to work. "Don't worry. The in-laws love me." That was true, and the way the blond said _in-laws_ made Thomas's stomach flutter with butterflies. Because maybe, one day, they really would be Newt's in-laws. Despite the fact that gay marriage still was a bit of an issue in his home state, they could always go to Europe to live happily ever after there.

That's what he imagined before going to sleep at night. Not that he was in a hurry or anything. It was just that Newt felt so _right_.

And thus, while Newt read about Romantic piano music, Thomas went to clean up the coffee shop to close it for the night - the coffee shop where their own personal love story had started by a weird encounter a year ago and where they had finally acknowledged that sometimes, it was worth to take a risk for happiness.

"Tommy?"

"Yeah?" The brunet looked up, waiting for Newt to say something that would catch on to his romantic mood.

"Stop smiling like an idiot."

Well, what could he say - his boyfriend _was_ kinda hot. Nobody had ever said he had good manners.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow so... it's over. Hang on a minute, I need to go quietly sob in a corner.  
> Right, I'm back :D  
> Thank you guys soooo much for bearing with me on this angsty journey, I can't tell you how thankful I am to you!! Thanks a billion for all the kudos and comments and feels and enthusiasm, you are truly made of awesome!!  
> As I said, the coffee shop AU is over now, but I am already writing another Newtmas - a spy AU this time, and there will be more action and sass and also Minho, I promise, and I'd love for you to check it out :)  
> Until then - have a great day and I love you all very much.  
> Thanks again <3  
> xx khaleesivero

**Author's Note:**

> HI GUYS, I'M BACK :D  
> To all of those I don't know yet - welcome :)  
> Alright so you know how I mostly write Newtmas who have a definite sexual or romantic attraction towards each other from the start? Well, I thought I'd change that a bit for this fic and make Newt a bit of a jerk (in the start) and let their relationship grow more slowly because why not, it could be fun :) Also, every fandom needs a coffeeshop AU - here is my contribution :)  
> Updates will most likely happen every second Wednesday - maybe sometimes I'll manage weekly updates, but as some of you know, I just moved to the UK for college and that is kind of exhausting.  
> Alright so thanks for reading this and I hope you enjoy this fic - let's just see where it'll take us :D  
> If you wanna say hi on tumblr, please do, my url is nerdylovelyme :) I'll always answer your comments as well, I'd love to talk to you guys :)  
> Loads of love xx  
> khaleesivero


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